


Nothin' for Free

by LadyJanelly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Jamie is not his best self in this fic, Jamie/Tyler beginning, Jamie/therapy otp, Jordie/Tyler is endgame, Kid Fic, M/M, See notes for warnings, non-nhl Tyler, not jamie bashing, sex work au, temporary jamie/tyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 110,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanelly/pseuds/LadyJanelly
Summary: “Always know who you are,” Ian says, words soft in the darkness, his skin warm against Tyler’s body. “Always know who they are. Clients—sometimes they’ll fool themselves into thinking they can find love with their dick. They’ll lie to themselves and you, too. They can’t help themselves. Don’t fall for it.”Tyler manages to follow Ian’s advice for over a year before he slips up. It’s easy to believe a client could want more from him than sex—it takes work for Jamie to convince Tyler that he wants to give him more than money.Tyler should be pissed, should be furious at himself for falling for those pretty words, but if he hadn’t, if he hadn’t believed them for just a little while, he wouldn’t have met Jordie, and knowing Jordie makes every bit of shit he put up with worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ye Olde list of warnings:  
> sex work (high end with agency), flawed people being imperfect and acting out of pain or fear, one slight dub-con moment in an otherwise consensual scene, some light pre-relationship stalking, pesky older brothers, infidelity issues, not-great boyfriending, unreliable narrator, violence against a sex worker after crappy but consensual sex (not either of the Benns), accidental injury, not ideal timing on the care of the injury, faked orgasms, dishonestly/white lies, past physical assault by a romantic partner, shitty inlaws, some jealousy/possessiveness, not-so-amicable breakup, light edging? Super-light d/s elements?, a tense stand off where someone thinks their ex might strike them in anger (may hit domestic violence type triggers), on-ice violence over an off-ice issue, family discord, a child exhibiting signs of stress (not caused by sexual or physical abuse), custody bullshit, not a rescue narrative, Jordie is nobody's second choice, Tyler solves his own shit and doesn’t need anybody to save him, Jamie is not his best self in this one.
> 
> If you have any concerns or questions, please feel free to leave a comment or send me an ask on tumblr.
> 
> This fic is completed and will be posted as I hear back from beta-readers and edit chapters. It is about 110k and 50 chapters long....
> 
> (thanks to eafay70 for the beta on chapters 1-4)

At exactly eight, there’s a tap on Jamie’s hotel room door. He takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and thinks to himself _Last chance to back down,_ but it’s taken too much effort, too much embarrassment to get to this point. If he chickens out, he’s just going to end up here again, too conscious of his new status as captain to pick up in bars. He’ll still be gay. Still be unwilling to be the first NHL player to out himself. It’s been two months since any hand but his own has touched his dick, and it has gotten old, gotten lonely. 

He takes another breath and walks to the door, half-convinced by the time he gets there that he had only imagined the knock. 

He opens the door, and the guy on the other side is just what he ordered, tall and handsome and athletic. Whiskey brown eyes and short brown hair. Strong jaw and beautiful cheekbones. He’s wholesome looking in his starched white shirt and gunmetal gray dress pants, except where the cuffs of his shirt are rolled up and the lines of finely shaded tattoos wrap around his left wrist and disappear under the edge of fabric.

The guys grins, takes a step back and checks the number on the wall by the door, shakes his head. “I think I’ve got the wrong room. You can’t be Jamie.” It’s said with a wink and a grin, like a joke between them instead of mocking Jamie for hiring a professional. 

“No, this is the right one. I’m Jamie,” he says, and the man grins in a way that’s more comfortable than Jamie has ever felt anywhere off the ice. 

“Tyler,” says the man, but Jamie knew that—the agency had told him when he set up the appointment. He holds out his hand and Jamie takes it, shakes it. He’s got a strong warm grip, smooth skin. “It’s great to meet you.”

Jamie steps back and leads Tyler into the room. The leather satchel hanging over his shoulder bumps against his hip. “Do you know what you’re looking for tonight?” he asks, relaxed and casual. Jamie knows that Tyler’s already signed the NDA, that his agent has a copy of it in his files, that this is as safe as a night with an escort can be, but he still gets flustered.

“I uh, I thought we’d have a beer. And there’s pay-per-view in the room, if you wanted to watch something?” This is his show; he’s in charge. He feels like he should be a little more assertive here, but the confidence isn’t coming to him.

He goes to the mini-bar to get that beer, just for something to do, something to distract himself. 

Tyler’s hands on Jamie’s waist startle him and he almost drops the bottles. “Three grand for two hours is pretty steep for watching a movie together,” Tyler teases. “You must have terrible taste in films if you’re willing to pay that much.”

Jamie smiles despite himself, shakes his head and turns in Tyler’s grip. He sets the beers down, fumbles for a moment for a place to put his hands. They end up on Tyler’s arms, just above the elbows. He’s muscular, hard and strong, and Jamie likes that.

Tyler waits, and Jamie breathes in. The website on call-girl etiquette he read said some do this and some don’t and it’s always better to ask. “Can I kiss you?” 

Tyler smiles, seems pleased at the question. “Yeah, I like that,” and he leans in when Jamie doesn’t, sighs soft against Jamie’s lips and then brushes them together. He flicks his tongue at the center of Jamie’s upper lip, and an eager little noise slips from his chest.

Whatever hesitation Jamie was feeling falls away at how damn good this feels, Tyler’s mouth against his, Tyler’s body under his hands. He leans down the inch it takes to match their heights, and this is easy; he’s kissed more men as strangers than as someone he’s been with more than once. He can do this, so he does, reaching up to cup the back of Tyler’s head, drawing his hips in closer with the other arm. 

“Yeah, there we go,” Tyler says, half teasing and half encouraging. He presses in, just enough that Jamie can feel he’s hard, and knowing Tyler is into this, like really turned on by it, makes everything so much easier. 

“Want to try running the game-plan by me again?” Tyler murmurs, and Jamie noses along his neck, nudging under the white-starched collar of his shirt to find new skin to lick. Tyler tips his head to make it easier.

“I want to fuck you,” Jamie whispers, and Tyler’s breath catches hungrily. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Tyler’s grin goes all the way to his eyes, “Now that’s something I can work with.” He tugs the hem of Jamie’s shirt out of his waistband, and Jamie has never felt so bold as when he brings his hands up and starts unbuttoning Tyler’s shirt, like Tyler is something that’s his, something he owns. 

He knew Tyler was built, but every inch revealed is like porn, too perfect to be real. And then the ink: swirls around his shoulder, then down his left arm to the wrist. A scroll filled with numbers, twined around the trunk of a tree with a heart for roots. Jamie wants to take a picture of him, so he’ll have it to look at when this is over, a tangible record of how fucking lucky he got. 

He drops Tyler’s shirt to the floor and Tyler gives him a little teasing cock of his eyebrow, a crooked smirk. Jamie grabs him and kisses him again, warm smooth skin under his hands as he holds Tyler close. 

Tyler nips Jamie’s lower lip, just hard enough to startle, and when he does, Tyler flips Jamie’s shirt off over his head with one smooth move, helps him get his arms untangled and then walks him back towards the bed. 

“So I’m thinking,” Tyler says as he stops and goes to his knees and unbuckles Jamie’s belt. “We’ll start with your dick, my ass. Take a break and order room service, and then come back and try it the other way around?”

Jamie groans, can’t even think beyond Tyler’s mouth so close to his dick, Tyler looking up at him through his ridiculously long eyelashes, Tyler’s tongue licking his lips like the idea of Jamie fucking him makes his mouth water.

“Yeah,” Jamie manages to grind out, “Yeah, all of that. Perfect.”

And then Tyler pulls Jamie’s jeans down to his knees, leans in and presses his lips against Jamie’s dick through his underwear, breathes hot and moist through the fabric. Nudges against him and turns and rubs his cheek against it. 

He pulls back, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Jamie’s underwear, pulls the edge out so he can get Jamie’s dick free. 

“Wow,” he breathes, and Jamie has to look down to make sure that’s a good wow. He doesn’t have more than average length, but more than makes up for that in girth. Some guys haven’t been comfortable with the idea of it going up their ass.

Tyler gazes at Jamie’s dick like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen though, and if it’s an act, Jamie sure as hell appreciates it. 

He didn’t see when Tyler pulled the condom out of his bag, but he tears the package open, eases the foreskin back, slides it over Jamie and then follows the edge with his lips, broad mouth going down on him, smooth and deep. Jamie lets him do that a couple times, but the hottest thing about it is the way Tyler looks up at him. Sensation alone, through the latex, it won’t get him where he wants to be. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching down to Tyler’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s…” 

Tyler seems to get with the plan, because he helps Jamie get his clothes all the way off and then guides him up the bed to lay on his back. He tosses the satchel beside Jamie, and steps back to finish stripping himself. 

“Wait,” Jamie says, before Tyler can climb up with him, “Can you…” he makes a spinning motion with his finger, and Tyler laughs, eyes darting away. He does the turn that Jamie asked for though, a slow spin and a twist of his hips, even if he seems to think it’s something between silly and embarrassing. He’s fucking beautiful, long and strong and hard everywhere. More ink across his ribs, small spidery writing that Jamie can’t read from this distance. His cock is hard and uncut; his ass isn’t big, but strong and muscular in a way that makes Jamie want to ask where he skates.

Tyler gives an “Are you done now?” raise of his eyebrows and Jamie nods him over to the bed with a grin. He straddles Jamie’s waist, leans down and kisses him again, teasing flicks and then deeper, back to light again when Jamie just wants to _devour_ him. 

There’s a plastic pop, and Tyler scoots back, a tube of lube in his hands. He drizzles the clear slick over Jamie’s dick, but he really can’t feel it much through the condom. He pours some on his hand and reaches behind himself for just a second, and then he tosses the tube aside and crawls up Jamie’s body.

He reaches behind again, his fingers light on Jamie’s dick, lining him up and then he relaxes down. Jamie takes in a harsh breath of air, because he’s not—he can’t be. Whatever prep he might have done before he got here couldn’t be enough, not for a guy of Jamie’s size. 

“Ty,” he says, soft warning, “You don’t…” 

Tyler kisses him again, a light brush of lips, “Shhh, I got this,” he says, and sits up a little straighter, eyes closed. Jamie watches his face as Tyler sits down on Jamie’s dick, a little bit at a time, opens himself up on it. Watches the emotions flicker across Tyler’s face, concentration as he wills his muscles to relax, the flutter of his eyelashes, a tiny wince of discomfort at the stretch of it and god he’s so fucking tight around Jamie. His lips part in pleasure. He breathes, deep and regular, and Jamie rests his hands gently at Tyler’s hips. 

“Oh fuck,” Tyler sighs as he rocks a little, not quite there yet, and then he relaxes everything, from his shoulders to his calves, slides down that last inch with a groan. The ring of muscle wrapped around Jamie’s dick spasms with tension, and he bites his lip to resist the urge to slam up, to fuck up into that delicious tightness. 

“Okay,” Tyler urges, “Yeah, okay, fuck. Give it to me.” 

Jamie’s hips buck up the second he stops restraining himself and Tyler grinds down. It’s good, but he doesn’t have the right leverage, can’t get _enough_ this way. He wraps an arm behind Tyler and pulls them close together and Tyler must get what he’s about to do because he locks his knees in tight against Jamie’s lower ribs and holds on as Jamie flips them. 

The breath is punched out of Tyler’s chest as Jamie drives into him, and he wraps his legs around Jamie’s waist, arching up to get more, get deeper and Jamie is lost in the sensation, one hand on Tyler’s tattooed shoulder, the other holding tight to his hip as he pounds into him. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck fuck Jamie!” Tyler pants out as he comes all over himself, completely untouched, and Jamie is dragged along with him, orgasm rippling up his legs and down his spine as he pounds into Tyler one last time. 

He doesn’t exactly black out so much as nothing really matters for a couple of seconds. He comes back to the world with Tyler under him, running his fingers through Jamie’s hair and smirking at him when Jamie gathers the strength to raise his head. 

“Yeah?” Tyler asks, and Jamie bites his shoulder in retaliation for the teasing tone. Tyler laughs at him but then hisses as Jamie pulls out, one hand on the condom. 

“You okay?” Jamie asks, and Tyler nods, shifts around a little. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” 

Jamie sits up on his heels and peels the condom off, ties it up and tosses it out of the way. He rubs Tyler’s thighs, feels them relax under his hands. 

 

He finally gets a good look at the tattoo over Tyler’s ribs. It reads “Olivia 6.15.10,” and Jamie’s fingers are tracing the lines before he’s even thought about it.

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice isn’t exactly sharp, but it’s lost the playful edge it carried before. “Anywhere but there, okay?” 

Jamie pulls back, slides his hands over Tyler’s waist. “Yeah, sorry. No problem.” 

Tyler smiles again. “Want to take a shower with me?” 

Jamie slides off the bed and offers Tyler a hand up. They stumble together to the bathroom, so fucked-out that it’s more funny than sexy. It’s comfortable and easy, stepping into the tub together after the water has warmed up. Tyler’s hands lathering Jamie’s chest. Jamie turning Tyler to the tile and running his hands up and down Tyler’s back, gently washing the puffy redness where Jamie fucked him. They kiss, with the water pouring over them, like they’ve been doing this for years, and Jamie feels a bittersweet twinge, that they haven’t, that they won’t be. 

“You hungry?” he asks as they break apart and Tyler shrugs. 

“I could eat. Order me whatever. No jalapenos.” 

Jamie gets out and dries himself off, wraps a towel around his waist and gets out the room service menu. The food’s been ordered when Tyler comes out, the white hotel bathrobe open to the waist, looking like sex personified. Jamie’s dick isn’t ready to get it up again, but it wishes it was. 

“So, that ‘amazing’ movie you wanted to watch earlier?” Tyler prompts and Jamie laughs.

“I really didn’t have one picked out.”

Tyler grabs the remote off the dresser and turns it on. He pushes the pillows around and makes himself comfortable, nearly centered in the bed. Jamie only hesitates a second, and then settles beside him, close enough that they’re touching at shoulder and knee. “This okay?” he asks and Tyler leans in against him, throws a thigh over Jamie’s like he’s furniture. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

They lay like that while they wait for the food. Jamie calls it ‘sprawling’ in his head, because snuggling doesn’t sound like something a smart person does with a hired escort. Tyler picks some action movie and it plays in the background while they recover their strength for round two. When room service knocks on the door, Tyler draws his feet up so they’re sure to be out of sight of the door, blocked by the bathroom and closet, and Jamie is so fucking grateful in that moment, because he didn’t even think of it, to hide him. 

The steak is good, for a hotel at nearly ten at night. “It’s not Saltgrass,” Tyler comments, but he seems to enjoy it anyway, and for saying ‘I could eat,’ earlier, he sure packs it away. 

“How much time do you put in at the gym?” Jamie asks, and apparently he guessed well for small-talk topics because Tyler obviously takes care of his body. He’s happy to tell all about his workout schedule: two hours minimum, working out with a personal trainer nearly every day, pilates or yoga classes four mornings a week. 

“Hey Jamie,” Tyler says as he finishes off his last bite of dinner, lays his knife and fork down on the plate. He grabs his bag off of the table and tosses it onto the bed. “You ever been fucked by a guy that does yoga?”

Jamie doesn’t choke on his meat, but it’s close. “No?” If he has, whoever it was didn’t tell him. 

Tyler grins and sticks out his tongue, makes an obscene flick with the tip of it. The mirth in his eyes is devilish. 

Jamie gulps. “I feel like I should have been training for this,” he complains, and Tyler leans in and whispers against his neck.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

Jamie shivers, at the idea of being vulnerable, of trusting Tyler’s mercy. 

Tyler takes Jamie’s plate and pushes him back against the pillows, as gently as he promised. Strong hands stroke the insides of Jamie’s thighs, spreading open the robe he’d put on to answer the door. He unwraps Jamie like he’s a gift, like he didn’t just see this all an hour ago. He makes it easy for Jamie to spread his legs, to be free to not be so tough. 

“Look at you,” Tyler sighs, leans forward and kisses his way up Jamie’s body, from just below his sternum up to his collar bones. 

“Will you…” Jamie’s breath catches. “Will you mark me?” 

Tyler groans and Jamie’s not expecting such an immediate response, isn’t expecting Tyler’s mouth to close over the skin of his shoulder, the sharp sting as he sucks hard, drawing color to the surface. He arches up, tips his head back when Tyler’s hand tightens in his hair. 

It’s over in a second, the bite gentling, Tyler’s tongue soothing over the flaming hickey. 

“Vampire,” Jamie complains, and Tyler’s chuckle tickles his skin. He draws back and Jamie can’t help but grin. “As much of that as you feel like doing,” he encourages, “Just keep it under a t-shirt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tyler promises, and the hands petting Jamie’s thighs slide higher with each pass, spreading them open a little further and then a little more. He jumps as Tyler’s thumbs brush either side of his balls, slow and then rub together behind them. He feels dumb, that he’s so surprised by how fucking good at this part Tyler is. That Tyler is taking him apart with a touch and a kiss and the sight of Tyler’s body naked from neck to knees where the robe has fallen open. He makes a noise, an embarrassing whine, and Tyler shushes him back down.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” And Jamie…Jamie never gets to be baby. Never gets to be taken care of so sweetly and he turns his head away from the sight, can’t meet Tyler’s eyes. 

Tyler gives him a moment to wrap his head around the idea—probably the most generous thing the man has done for him tonight. And then he leans in and kisses along the inside of Jamie’s knee, worshiping his skin until the moment he tickles him with his tongue and Jamie laughs and yelps. The tickle turns to a nip then, and it’s definitely not where a t-shirt will cover, but Jamie appreciates the initiative when Tyler sucks another mark onto his skin. He slithers out of the sleeves of the robe, bare shoulders strong and beautiful.

“Want me to wear gloves?” he asks, and his free hand cups Jamie’s ass, squeezes softly. 

“No.” Jamie’s voice is ragged with wanting Tyler’s skin on his, as intimate as it can be. 

Tyler props one of Jamie’s legs up on his shoulder and reaches over for his bag. He drops two condoms onto the bedspread and pulls out the tube of lube. The first touch is cold, and Jamie hisses just to get Tyler’s soothing kisses against his thigh. 

Sure, steady fingers stroke over Jamie’s hole, too firm to tickle. The pressure of one finger is almost nothing, and it slips inside him without resistance. “Yeah,” Tyler sighs, and Jamie opens his legs a little wider. 

A second finger goes in and Jamie watches Tyler’s face, the intensity of his care. He tugs up, forward, stretching Jamie and then spreading his fingers to change the direction of it. Tyler slides the third finger in and Jamie gets a good hold of the bed-covers under him. Slick fingers fuck into him, backed by Tyler’s strong arm. 

“Wait, wait,” Jamie begs, because he wants Tyler in him when he comes. “I need…I need.” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Tyler assures him, and carefully pulls his fingers out. He tears open a condom and puts it on himself, and then the second one on Jamie, which doesn’t seem to make much sense, but Jamie is beyond questioning.

 

Tyler lines himself up and pushes in slow. It’s been a while. More than a while, if Jamie’s being honest. Tyler feels huge in him, and freezes when Jamie tenses up against the stretch of it. Together they take a few breaths, then Jamie nods and Tyler slides those last few inches. 

“Good?” Tyler asks with a grin, and Jamie huffs a laugh at him. 

“Move your ass,” he complains, and loves the way Tyler smiles at him.

“I’ll move _your_ ass,” Tyler promises, and the first few thrusts are easy. He pulls back then, it feels like about halfway, gets a grip on the back of Jamie’s hips and lifts a little. He folds himself at the waist, his mouth coming down to Jamie’s cock, hot through the condom. The angle puts the tip of Tyler’s dick right on his prostate. Bumping, pushing.

Jamie makes a strangled noise. His brain checks out and his body can’t figure out if he should thrust up or back, and even the lost little thrusts his hips are giving make it almost too much. He scrambles for grip, the bed not enough to hold onto. His hand lands on the back of Tyler’s neck. He almost jerks away and apologizes, because that’s not a stretch you want to push someone in, but Tyler’s hum of appreciation stops him. 

Jamie shudders and tries to hold off, hold it back. Tyler’s finger brushes against him, where their bodies are joined. Then he drops Jamie’s dick in favor of licking his way up his body, pausing to leave another mark on his left pec before kissing him, hard and sweaty, tasting of latex and salt. He’s getting full deep thrusts now, and he fumbles the condom off Jamie so he can take him in hand, skin to skin, long full strokes that wrap his foreskin completely up over the head before pulling it down snug again. 

“You’re so…” Tyler groans against his lips, “You’re so fucking…” and whatever it is Jamie is, it must be good because Tyler comes, face buried in Jamie’s throat, shaking through it, jerking Jamie harder faster until he’s coming too. 

They collapse together and Tyler is a pleasant weight on his chest, sweat-slick and dazed. Jamie will need to move soon, but he lets the moment last, lets them be close. 

Tyler’s sigh is regretful when he finally pushes up, gently disentangling their bodies. He kisses the corner of Jamie’s mouth and heads to the bathroom, comes back a second later with a wet washcloth that he uses to tenderly clean the mess off of Jamie’s ass and abs. 

“You good?” he asks when he’s done and Jamie chuckles. He’s too weak to move at the moment, loose and a little sore.

“I’m perfect,” he says and Tyler grins down at him. 

“I’m glad.” It sounds genuine. Jamie feels that line in his head, the one that defines what they’re doing here, blur a little more.

Tyler stretches out beside him, and when Jamie rolls his way he leans into the touch and there’s no denying it’s a cuddle. They lay there tangled in each other until Jamie starts to drift off.

“Hey,” Tyler says, soft, “It’s getting late. You mind if I use your shower before I go?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Help yourself.” Tyler gets up and walks to the bathroom and Jamie opens his eyes for long enough to watch him go, naked and beautiful and utterly unselfconscious. 

The sleepy moment is gone then, and he groans and sits up. He thinks he’ll head back to the apartment he shares with Jordie in a little while—he spends enough nights in hotel rooms already. His phone hasn’t chirped but he checks messages anyway. It’s almost eleven, and Tyler’s been here just short of three hours on a two hour engagement. Jamie had gone to the bank for cash earlier, for tip and hypothetical ‘extras’ but now it doesn’t seem like enough. He puts the entire envelope on the table nearest Tyler’s shoes. 

He goes back to the bed, starts getting dressed even though he still smells like sex, smells like them. He listens to the water falling in the other room. 

Tyler comes out fully clothed, his white shirt a little wrinkled, crooked creases in his slacks from where they were dropped to the floor and left. He looks frat-boy handsome, relaxed and happy. He smiles as he picks up the envelope, bounces it in his hand and then stuffs it in his bag. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No, Thank you. Seriously.” 

Tyler puts on his shoes and slings the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. He walks to the bedside and leans in over Jamie, kisses him slow and sweet, cupping Jamie’s head between his hands. “I had a great night,” he says, and Jamie _wants_. 

“How much?” he blurts, feeling stupid, feeling young. “For the night. How much to stay?”

Tyler winces in sympathy. “I don’t do overnights, sorry.” He leans in and kisses the sting of his words away. “Some of the other guys at the agency…”

“No,” Jamie cuts in, not wanting to think about other escorts, other clients. “I’d like. To ask for you again, if that’s okay.”

Tyler’s smile recovers its warmth. “Yeah. Anytime. Seriously, anytime.” 

“Okay.” And it’s dumb, so incredibly dumb, but Jamie is already thinking about his schedule, about how many days it will be before he can do this again. 

Tyler pulls away with a grin. “Don’t walk me to the door.” 

Jamie can’t help but smile back. “Get out of here then,” but he can’t help standing where he can see Tyler out.

Tyler leaves, looking back over his shoulder just as the door closes, warm eyes meeting Jamie’s.


	2. Work/life balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank-you to Eafay70 for the quick beta.

The door closes on Jamie Benn’s soft Bambi gaze and the click of the latch is like the breaking of a spell. Tyler grins and turns away, a twinge in his step but a good one. Jamie fucking Benn, he thinks as he takes out his phone. He turns off the Kitestring app that sends a message to the agency if he doesn’t safely leave an appointment within a pre-set time-frame, messages for his ride, and types out a quick text to work while he’s riding in the elevator: 

Jamie = greenlight 10/10 open full menu 

If he’ll do it, he’ll do it with Jamie. There aren’t a lot of those in Tyler’s feedback-on-clients file, and never after the first appointment. He knows they’re going to give him shit for it the next time he talks to management. He can’t help it though, can’t knock the smile off his face. He likes his job, enjoys what he does, but this was a great night even by his easy standards. He’s got some famous people on his regulars list—a baseball player, an actor, a pair of politicians who would each probably pay him ten grand to know about the other. It’s not that Jamie is famous. It’s that Jamie was nice. Fun and kind. He said he’d ask for Tyler again, and he doesn’t like to get his hopes up, but he thinks he’d like that. 

He thumbs through his messages when he’s done, out on the hotel’s curb waiting for his ride. They’ve scheduled him a nooner on Saturday, and while he’d left the slot available, he had been hoping it wouldn’t fill and he’d be able to drop in the afternoon game at the rink over in Richardson. Still, he’ll take the cash over the ice time with only a slight pang.

The burgundy and yellow mini-van pulls up and Tyler climbs in. 

“The usual, Mr. Tyler?” Ibrahim asks, and Tyler nods. He likes having a driver after his jobs, the few minutes to sit and self-inventory. A couple times he’s been in no shape to drive, too worn out from the physical exertion and a client not inclined to bask in the afterglow. He doesn’t drink at all when he’s working, if he can help it. Sometimes a client will insist, and even though he doesn’t let himself get inebriated, he can’t afford to get arrested at all, and a DWI would be a truly stupid thing to get a record for. Safer to have a plan already in place, a ride just waiting for his call.

Ibrahim nods and puts the van back into drive.

Tyler opens the envelope inside his bag as the cab pulls away, fans the corner of the bills inside with his thumb. Fuck. He’s going to have to run by the safety deposit box in the morning; this is too much cash to keep in the apartment. He pulls out a few bills and stuffs the rest back in his bag, zips it closed. He leans on the window and watches the city lights as they leave the fancy hotels behind for less flashy streets. 

“Here,” Tyler says and passes Ibrahim over two twenties when they pull up outside Snap. “Thanks.”

He kills two hours in the gym. He wasn’t lying to Jamie about how much time he spends on his body. It’s his most important investment, and he takes damn good care of it. The gym is a great place to review his day. He replays every aspect of his hours with Jamie. Opening with joking around, definitely the way to go. In his experience, most guys aren’t with a hooker just to have an orgasm. They’re looking for something emotional, something they can’t get from their own hand, aren’t getting from the partner they’re with. Power, usually. Control over a situation, a person. Jamie…Tyler thinks he’s looking to relax. To feel cared about. He had been afraid calling him “Baby” was a step too far, at the time, but looking back it feels right. Like what Jamie needed, even if it was over the line of what Jamie was comfortable with. 

He thinks…more of the same, next time. Make him smile. Make him feel cared for. Having a plan makes it easier for Tyler to put it all aside, to leave it behind. He steps out of the gym, legs rubbery from the treadmill, but he feels lighter, separate from his job.

El Tizoncito next door serves until one AM, and he’s enough of a regular that they don’t kick him out until they’re done mopping the floors. He goes there next, orders some Mexican and pulls out his ipad to watch an episode of his show. 

His car is in the gym parking lot where he left it before going to meet Jamie, and he drives home. 

It’s just after three AM when gets back to a quiet apartment complex. He climbs the stairs to the second level’s walkway, walks past his own door and the two next to it. At the third door he knocks softly and waits the few minutes before it opens.

Mrs. Busari is dressed for work, green scrubs and white crocs, her hair wound up in a darker green scarf, ready for her four AM to noon shift at the nursing home.

“She asleep?” Tyler asks, and she nods and steps back to let him in. 

“So impatient,” Mrs. Busari scolds him, but quietly, very quietly. 

He steps in, and there’s his girl, curled up asleep on the couch, her ladybug blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Miss Bun-Bun tucked in under her chin. Her hair is blond like his mother’s, soft and straight. Long lashes fan out on her soft round cheeks. The sight of her catches in his chest. He forgets, when he’s working, when he’s put all thoughts of her away for safekeeping, just how much he loves her.

“She ate a good dinner and did not want to get out of the bath,” Mrs. Busari assures him.

“Thanks,” he says, and passes her the rest of the money he kept out of the envelope. 

“Tyler, no. This is too much.” She tries to give it back but he won’t take it.

“I had a good tipper tonight. Keep it.”

She gives him a look, but she’s got her own family to provide for, and it disappears into the front pocket of her scrubs. There were times, back when he was actually tending bar instead of just pretending to, when he’d be short for weeks on end and she never complained, never turned him away when he needed her to watch his baby. 

He sneaks over to his little girl’s side, scoops her gently off of the couch and into his arms. She makes a sleepy grumble and he soothes her back down, one hand rubbing her back. “Shhh, Livvie, baby, Daddy’s got you,” and he rocks her until she settles back to sleep. 

Mrs. Busari holds the door for him and he walks back to their apartment, unlocks the door and goes inside. It’s dark and he doesn’t want to turn on a light. Rethinks that choice when he stumbles over a toy in the dark and it goes off like a musical landmine, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star a dirge in the key of dying battery. He freezes, but Livvie doesn’t wake up and he thanks whoever it is who watches out for single dads at three in the morning. 

There’s only one bedroom, but it’s plenty for her toddler bed and his twin. He lays her down and pulls a sheet over her. Watches her sleep for a minute in the soft glow of the night-light.

Eighteen more months. He’s got to be out of this before she’s old enough to notice, old enough to remember. There’s a flier for The Hockaday School on the fridge. Sixteen grand a year, but she deserves it. Deserves the very best he can provide for her. She’s too good, too smart, for him to do any less. Eighteen more months, two years total. He’s got to have enough money for her school, for his school, for them to live on until he can graduate and get a real job. Some spare in case of emergencies. Two years to save up six years worth of nest egg, and he’s on track, just has to see it through to the end. 

He’ll do anything for his little girl.


	3. Second date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Eafay70 for the beta!

Jamie hates the telephone, the way he can’t read the person on the other end, can’t tell if he’s being weird or they’re mocking him or what. 

“I was wondering if I could schedule another appointment?” he asks, hoping he’s using the right terminology, not sounding like a noob. 

“Certainly,” the woman on the other end says, and he can hear her typing. God he hopes their system is secure. The idea of having his name in an escort agency’s database kind of makes his skin twitch. “Would you like Tyler again, or to try someone different?” 

“Tyler,” he answers, too quick to be smooth, and her chuckle is not unkind. 

“He has that effect,” she says, and he doesn’t want to think too much about _who_ Tyler has that effect on. “When were you wanting to schedule?” 

“Next Wednesday? Evening. Whenever.”

He hears more clicks of the keys. “Wednesday is booked. He could do Thursday evening, or a two-hour slot Friday from noon to two?”

Thursday is a game, but he’ll be out of town over the weekend, and that’ll make it almost two weeks since he’s seen Tyler. 

“How much for Thursday all-night?” he asks, because he’ll be starting late and doesn’t want to feel like he’s on a time-table.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Tyler is not available for overnights. I could schedule you with Ian or Darren if you…”

“No, that’s fine. Just. What time would he leave?” 

“No later than two AM,” she says, and he takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. Can I have eleven to two?” 

“Of course. The same hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Done. Just text me with the room number when you have it and I’ll send it on to Tyler.”

“Thanks,” he says, like she was doing him a favor, like he didn’t just authorize a ridiculous amount on his credit card. 

“Have a good evening,” she tells him and he ends the call. 

============

 

Scheduling Tyler after a game seemed like a good idea at the time, Jamie thinks. He calls after his pre-game nap and does the hotel check-in over the phone, texts the number to Tyler’s agency and asks for him to be there when Jamie finishes. The problem is he hadn’t counted on losing, hadn’t counted on fighting. God-damn Skinner starting shit that Jamie had to finish. He’s got two fresh stitches in his left eyebrow, swollen knuckles and a hell of a bad mood by the time he finishes with the post-game interview. The media is all over him, how he’s picking up the reins of the captaincy, how he’s meshing (or failing to mesh) with the kid from the ‘blockbuster deal.’ Questioning him about the trade like Jamie had any control over that at all.

“You got a date tonight, right?” Jordie asks, as Jamie is pulling his suit back on, aching and tired. 

“Think I’m gonna cancel,” he says, because he knows he’s no fit company, knows he’s not going to be able to put on a pleasant face tonight after this shit-fest.

Jordie makes a thoughtful noise and Jamie frowns. “What.”

Jordie shrugs. “It’s Tyler, right?” and Jamie regrets giving him that name, but he’d had to explain the hickeys on his chest and the hitch in his step somehow and older brothers can be pests. At least he’d kept the financial side of their arrangement a secret.

Jamie nods. Pulls on his shirt and then wraps the icepack back around his knuckles. 

“You were sure as hell in a better mood the last time you saw him,” Jordie suggests.

“It’s not like that.”

Jordie raises an eyebrow. “Not like he makes you happy?” 

“I don’t want to be an asshole around him.”

Jordie shrugs. “If you’re too tired to go out, then cancel. If you want to see him, let him know you had a shitty day and let him make the decision.”

And with any other guy that would be good advice, except it’s not fair to Tyler to make him choose between a shitty night and a night of not getting paid. Either way, Jamie suspects it might be hard to get his name on Tyler’s schedule after that.

“I’ll catch up to you at home,” Jamie says, and bumps his shoulder against Jordie’s in gratitude for his efforts. 

He pulls his phone out when he gets to the truck, sits in the dark and watches headlights as a couple thousand fans leave the arena. Only a little over half of them had even been rooting for the Stars anyway. Fuck.

He dials the agency. Someone should be there to answer the phone, but it feels weird to call outside of nine-to-five working hours. A different voice answers the phone than he’s talked to the other two times, a different woman, less smoothly professional. 

“Alvarez Events.” That part at least is the same.

“Hi, this is Tyler’s appointment for tonight. I wanted to call and let him know I’m not going to make it.” He feels like shit. “I know it’s short notice. I’ll still pay him for his time.”

There’s a long pause and he’s afraid this place actually hires out catering staff as well as escorts and he caught a receptionist who doesn’t know.

“He’s already en route,” she says, and Jamie winces. 

“Could you call him? Let him know I won’t be there. He can order whatever from room service.”

There’s another pause. “I’ll try, but his phone appears to be off already. I’ll leave a message for him.”

He could ask her to call the room, but he’s not going to ask someone else to do his dirty work. 

“I’ll call him there,” he says, and she thanks him and hangs up. He sits alone in the dark for another few minutes before he calls the hotel, asks for the room number he texted to Tyler earlier. 

“Hello?” It’s Tyler and he sounds deeply uncertain.

“Hey. It’s Jamie. I won’t be by tonight. I just. Wanted to let you know. You can order whatever from room service. Keep the room until checkout if you want.”

“Okaaaay,” Tyler drawls, Jamie can hear the moment when his tone switches from confusion to mirth. “Either this is the weirdest thing I’ve had a client ask for this week, or I think I’m insulted.”

“It’s not…” Jamie feels the corner of his mouth tick up without his permission. “I just had a shitty day. I didn’t want to take that out on you.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Tyler’s voice is a little different when he speaks again, less teasing and more honestly asking. “You think there’s a chance you’d keep going with something I said no to?”

The very idea is repugnant, and Jamie’s “No!” has no hint of doubt to it. “No, I don’t want to be a jerk though. You…” _deserve better,_ he thinks, but that’s not something he can say to someone he’s paying to have sex with him. 

“So,” Tyler says, and Jamie can recognize a change of subject when he sees it. “That shitty day you had…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jamie cuts in, hating the sharpness in his voice. Not Tyler’s fault. Not his fault at all.

“So come here and don’t talk,” Tyler answers, and Jamie closes his eyes. “Tell me what you need, here over the phone.” He goes softer with every word, tempting more than seductive. “Tell me now and then come over and you don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to. You need to fuck my mouth?” 

Jamie wants it as much as he’s horrified by the idea of hurting someone, of taking this burning tension in his chest and turning it outward onto innocent bystanders.

“You need me to fuck you?” 

Jamie makes an involuntary noise, and Tyler sighs. “Yeah, we can do that, baby, you wanna do that?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie breathes. 

“Come over,” Tyler urges, “Drive safe. I’ll be here until two.”

Jamie huffs out something like a chuckle, breathy and turned on and…enticed by the hope that he can have this, something simple, something he needs. “Give me twenty,” he says, and hangs up. Part of him can’t believe he’s doing this, that he’s going out on a night like this. 

He gets to the hotel and lets the valet park his truck. Somehow it’s more embarrassing to get the key card from the front desk knowing that Tyler’s already there, up in that room waiting for him. He takes a moment outside the door to psyche himself up and then, because he was raised right, he knocks, even though it’s technically his own damn door. 

“Yeah,” Tyler’s voice comes, muffled from inside, and Jamie slots the card, turns the handle, not sure at all what he’s going to find inside. 

He doesn’t see Tyler from the door, so he steps in, past the closet and restroom, and then his breath catches, because Tyler didn’t exactly wait for him to get the party started. He’s sprawled out on the bed on his back, pillows stacked behind his shoulders. His pants are nowhere to be seen, his white dress shirt is unbuttoned completely, spread open more at the waist to frame the stark black of his underwear, some kind of shorty-shorts spandex things that cling to his hips and ass and bulge at the front around his erection. 

He watches Jamie come in—Jamie can see Tyler’s eyes follow the line of bruise around the arch of his cheekbone, up to the cut above his eye. 

True to his promise, Tyler doesn’t say a word, just waggles his brows in leering invitation. Jamie feels the stress of the day slip away as he crawls up the bed. He buries his face in Tyler’s crotch, breathing in the aroused smell of him, masculine and heady. 

“Yeah baby,” Tyler soothes, and pets his hair and lets Jamie hold onto him. 

“Wanna blow you,” Jamie mumbles, and Tyler passes him a condom without a word. Jamie pulls those tight shorts down under Tyler’s balls, lets the elastic cup and display him. He opens the condom and slides Tyler’s foreskin back, rolls the condom on over him. The feel of the latex under his thumb cools his desire to put his mouth on it a little, so he licks at Tyler’s stomach instead, feels him gasp and squirm. He chases his taste down into his pubic hair, around the base of his dick, the warm bare skin there. Licks and sucks at the thin wrinkled skin of his balls, rolls them in his hand. 

He puts Tyler’s dick between his lips finally, slides down as Tyler arches up, works him more with pressure than spit and tongue and suction like he could do if Tyler was bare in his mouth. 

Tyler is flushed when Jamie pulls off, lips parted and watching like Jamie just did a magic trick instead of a mediocre blowjob. “God you look good doing that,” and Jamie thinks he probably doesn’t, but the compliment brings a blush to his cheeks anyway. Tyler rubs two fingers against Jamie’s spit-slicked bottom lip and he opens his mouth, takes them in, gets a hint of texture and taste that he was really craving. 

Tyler gives his shoulder a little push and Jamie rolls off of him. “Let’s get you naked, yeah?” Tyler suggests as he strips his underwear and the condom off, and Jamie nods. Tyler takes his time, unlacing Jamie’s shoes and putting them by the wall, sliding the socks off of his feet. He straddles Jamie’s waist and works the buttons of Jamie’s shirt, fingers sliding over the smooth skin of his chest and Jamie is glad he Naired before the game, glad he’s not patchy with stubble as well as borderline-grumpy.

He thought, on the phone, that he wanted it hard. Wanted Tyler to hold him down and make him take it. But Tyler’s touch is respectful, almost gentle, sliding over Jamie’s shoulders and arms, up and down his waist. He’s watching Jamie, like he’s a puzzle Tyler will solve, like he’s a puzzle that it _matters_ to find a solution to. 

“Can I…” Jamie starts, but this is his dime, he can do whatever he wants, right? “I’m going to roll over,” he says, because he can’t take looking at Tyler looking at him. Tyler scoots off of his back, unbuttoning his pants on the way and sliding them off Jamie’s hips as he turns.

Tyler’s weight resettles on his hips and Jamie sighs as his touch becomes more deliberate. “Hang on,” Tyler says, and rustles around in his bag and when his hands return they’re cool and slick and the air smells like coconut. It’s not a professional massage, too light to get into the knots of muscle and really break up the tension, but it feels good, being touched, being intimate, and Jamie sighs with long-denied contentment. 

It’s a long time before Tyler’s touch moves south, the occasional swipe at his lower back teasing under the top edge of his underwear, around the side and over the fronts of his hip bones. His lips press down between Jamie’s shoulder blades. 

“Is this still the plan?” he asks, quiet like he doesn’t want to mess with whatever Jamie’s got going on in his head. 

The question flutters in Jamie’s gut, shivers through his body. “Yeah,” he sighs, and Tyler kisses his spine again. 

“Gonna take my time with you,” Tyler promises, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

He tugs at the waist of Jamie’s underwear, urges him up so he can pull them down. He palms Jamie’s bared ass, squeezing his cheeks together and then parting them with his thumbs. He strokes over Jamie’s hole, leans in and blows a teasing stream of breath over it. He has Jamie panting and moaning before he even goes for the lube, before he even has a finger up inside him. He lets Jamie writhe on the bed under him, two fingers and then three. Jamie spreads his knees, humps against the comforter. 

Tyler stills his fingers seconds away from Jamie coming, but he doesn’t pull out, pets Jamie’s hip with the free hand while he breathes through it, backs away from it. He waits until Jamie is calmer and then reaches for his bag and Jamie tries not to tense up again while he gets a condom on. 

“Up,” Tyler orders, and drags Jamie back onto his dick, sliding in just the good side of too-fast, hands pulling him back as his hips thrust forward. Jamie groans and scrambles for a grip on the blankets, braces one hand on the headboard and pushes back into it. 

“Fuck,” he pants, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” letting it happen, letting Tyler fuck him deep and steady. 

“Got you,” Tyler says, one hand wrapping around Jamie’s dick when he tries to stroke himself, still slick with lube and tight. He reaches up and rolls Jamie’s left nipple between finger and thumb and Jamie cries out, feels the orgasm sweep through him, perfect and cleansing.

Tyler goes tense behind him, mouth closing over Jamie’s shoulder, biting just short of leaving a mark. He collapses down, blanketing Jamie with his weight and his warmth and they lay like that together while they recover their breath.

“Better?” Tyler asks into the quiet, and Jamie sighs. 

“Yeah, lots. Thanks.” 

Tyler kisses the nape of his neck, and Jamie reaches down and holds onto Tyler’s forearm, keeping him from pulling away just yet. He closes his eyes, luxuriating in the feeling until Tyler starts to squirm.

“Hey, I gotta ditch the condom,” he murmurs and Jamie lets him up. He leaves his eyes closed and doesn’t move until Tyler comes back, warm washcloth in hand. It feels so good, Tyler cleaning him up and then flipping the comforter over him. 

“You hungry?” Tyler asks, and even though Jamie should probably eat, he shakes his head. 

“Come here,” he says, and a certain level of bossiness seems fair since he’s technically the boss. Tyler comes over and there’s a bit of fussing with blankets and pillows and getting back up to fetch the remote control off of the tv stand but eventually they’re both comfortable, Tyler propped up on the pillows and Jamie stretched out with his head and shoulders on Tyler’s chest. 

Jamie sighs, content at last. 

“I could leave the TV off,” Tyler offers, and Jamie shrugs. 

“Only if you want to. It won’t keep me awake,” so Tyler watches some cheesy show about werewolves in high school while Jamie dozes. 

The beep of an alarm is what wakes him—not _his_ alarm, but urgent enough that there’s nothing else it could be. Tyler tenses under him, and then leans over to kiss his temple before sliding out from under him. “Gotta go. Sorry,” he sighs and Jamie makes a half-hearted effort to hang onto him.

“Why?” He knows he’s whining. Can’t make himself stop. 

Tyler chuckles and wriggles out of his grip. “I turn into a pumpkin.” 

“Sexy pumpkin,” Jamie grumbles and Tyler snickers. 

“I’ll remember that next time, your attraction to big orange gourds.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose, because ugh, no. 

“You need anything before I go?” Tyler asks, but besides Tyler staying the night, he can’t think of anything. 

“Nah, get out of here. And thanks. For putting up with me.”

Tyler snorts. “Trust me. It was no problem.”

Jamie almost goes back to sleep, but startles himself back awake. “Wait. In my pants. Envelope for you.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler says and digs through Jamie’s clothes until he finds his tip. Jamie dozes off again because it was a long hard day. He wakes up five hours later as the sun cuts through the crack in the curtains and it occurs to him that it may not have been smart to tell a prostitute to go through his pockets, but even in the light of day he isn’t actually worried about it.


	4. The hotel key-card blues

Jamie wakes up at eight in the morning, in a hotel in Dallas. He could probably go back to sleep, but his stomach is rumbling and checkout is in a few hours and his apartment is just a few minutes drive away. He gets up and goes home. Jordie isn’t there so he makes a pan of eggs for one and then crawls into bed, still smelling vaguely of sex and Tyler and the hotel’s laundry. 

He doesn’t wake up until he hears Jordie banging his way back into the apartment, the rustle of grocery store bags and the clatter of jars and cans hitting the granite counter-top. He feels around on his bedside table for his phone to find out what time it is, how ridiculously late he slept but it’s not there.

By the time he stumbles out of the bedroom, empty-handed because he thinks he left his phone on the counter with his keys and wallet, Jordie is done with the groceries. Is, in fact, standing at the counter in front of Jamie’s stuff, a white rectangle in his hand and a frown between his eyebrows. 

“Jamie,” he says, a ghost of confusion and worry in his voice. He holds up the Marriott Dallas key-card, and Jamie’s stomach sinks.

“You could have brought him here, you know,” Jordie says, and he’s a big tough guy, which makes Jamie feel twice as bad to be the cause of him looking small and hurt. “I wouldn’t have given you guys a hard time; you know that, right?” 

“No, it’s…” and telling Jordie that Tyler only works out of hotels is absolutely not the direction he’s willing to take this conversation. “It’s not like that. Not serious. And if I bring him here, it’s like a ‘meet-the-family’ type thing, you know?”

Jordie frowns like he doesn’t know.

“But. His place? He’s not…ashamed of you, is he? He’s not like—married or something is he? Why wouldn’t he…”

“It’s me,” Jamie cuts in, but he can’t stop his mind from going to the ink on Tyler’s ribs, the words he doesn’t want touched by paying clients. He wonders if that would work, the job Tyler does, being married to someone.

“I’m in the fucking closet, Jordie. It’s not like I can take him out for dinner. We. It’s nice at the hotel. For a date. New movies on the pay-per-view and a good meal straight to the door. It’s…” _the best I can get,_ he doesn’t finish, because Jordie would walk through fire for him and it would kill him that he can’t help Jamie with this. 

Jordie slides the key-card over the counter, and Jamie drops it in the trash. 

“It’s not bad,” Jamie says, trying to sound like he means it. 

================


	5. Saturday mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to alakeeffectgirl for the beta on chapters 5-8!  
> I'm gonna try to keep posting most week days, unless I hit a major life snag or find a big flaw in the fic that needs to be fixed. The fic is completed at 110k words, but that's a lot of fic to edit.

Saturday mornings are Tyler’s favorite. Back at the beginning, he would leave it up for appointments. It only took a couple weeks to figure out it’s one of the quietest days so he blocks it off as family time now, at least for the weekends when he has Livvie. 

Livvie rarely lets him sleep past seven, but that’s alright. He’s not sure when she changed beds, but he wakes to her squirming against his side, wiggling, kicking, rolling over again. Not quite awake, but agitated in her sleep. He tries to cuddle her back to stillness because he got in at his normal time the night before, but no such luck. 

“Ugh, come on, let’s start the day then.”

Her little head pops up, hair fluffed all around her head. 

“Now I get a M&M,” she says.

“Hang on, hang on, let me see first.” Tyler checks her pull-ups and finds them dry. “Two nights in a row, baby girl. You’re doing so good.”

“I am,” she agrees. “Now I getta M&M.”

Tyler grins. God he loves his kid. He sighs dramatically “Well, I guess so.”

She looks down her nose at him, which is a pretty spectacular feat considering she’s a head shorter than him, even with him crouched down. Her head is tipped back so far he watches to make sure she doesn’t lose her balance.

“That’s starcasm.”

“Yep. Your daddy’s a pretty starcastic kind of guy.”

He takes her to use the bathroom and then carries her to the kitchenette and grabs the jar of M&Ms.

“Oops,” he says, giving her a conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows and three of them fall into her little hand. 

When the M&Ms have cemented the dry-equals-good in her head, he puts her at her little table and turns on the TV. He brings her a fruit-cup of apple sauce because a hungry three-year-old is an angry three-year-old. That whole ‘save your appetite for the meal’ doesn’t seem to apply at her age.

While she’s eating, he gathers up all the dirty dishes and throws some in the dishwasher. Grabs the paper bowls they’d used for breakfast the day before and stuffs them in the trash. Checks to see if the hockey pads he’d left on a re-purposed wire rack are still damp. 

He knows he’s a pretty shit housekeeper. He swears there must be an invisible person living here that wrecks the place when he’s not looking. 

The Hudsons haven’t picked Livvie up here-- Tyler has to drive down to their fancy house by White Rock Lake to drop her off when it’s their weekend, back down again to pick her up. If he hears “Oh, she could stay the week with us if you need help,” one more time he might scream. Okay he won’t, because that would be mental instability and they’d have a court order to take Livvie before the echoes had died.

Still, there’s the more-than-zero percent chance they’ll call CPS one day out of the blue and the mess will count against him. He just can’t seem to be better at it. 

“Okay I’m done we can go now,” Livvie informs him. 

“Gimme a minute, okay?” No time for a shower, but he had one the night before. He goes into the bedroom and changes, combs his hair to tame the bed-head. He grabs his sweater, keys and his wallet. He kicks some sturdier toys into a semblance of a pile as he crosses to the door. He really really needs to spend an hour here alone to fix this shit, but knowing it won’t last a minute makes it a low priority.

“Okay, grab your jacket.”

She brings it to him to pull it on, grumps that her shirt sleeves got bunched so they have to take it off and start over.

Wardrobe emergencies taken care of, he brings her down to the Busaris’ door. Gideon is four and Augustin is six. They’re good kids with incredibly respectful manners. He’s really hoping that Livvie picks up on some of that.

He knocks on the door and smiles when Mrs. Busari answers. 

“The boys want to go to Micky-D’s?” After all she’s done for him, and continues to do, the least he can give in return is a couple hours for her to grab a nap on her day off on the weekends he has Livvie.

“Only if you don’t mind,” Mrs. Busari says like she always does.

“No problem at all. I can keep them until nine-thirty. Longer if you need me to.”

“No, that will be fine. Thank you, Tyler.” 

Gideon pops up behind his mother, his smile bright and open. “Are we going to McDonalds?”

“Yep-yep. You’re with me today.”

“We’re goin’ to the McDonalds with the octagon room and the good tunnels and the cookies,” Livvie adds. 

Tyler supposes that one’s no further than the one he was planning on. 

“Be good for Mr. Tyler,” Mrs. Busari orders, and the boys promise. 

Tyler carries Livvie down the stairs because she fell on them last week and she’s still wary. The boys mill around him until they get to the bottom and then everybody waits on the curb until Tyler can set up a chain of hands to cross the parking lot to his car. 

His backseat looks like he’s a soccer mom in training, Livvie’s car seat in the middle, the boosters for the boys on either side. Toys litter the floor, sun-melted crayons staining the insides of the cup holders. 

“Here we go,” he says as Livvie crawls into her seat and he contorts himself enough to get the buckles on. Augustin helps Gideon with his and then buckles himself. Tyler checks that they’re all securely clipped and then takes his own seat and starts the car. 

Saturday mornings are awesome.

=============

They win. Fuck, fuck, finally. Three out of four of their road-trip games go their way. Jamie and Skinner are starting to click out there, starting to work like a team. 

Jamie calls the agency from the airport in Vancouver. “Is Tyler free Wednesday?” he asks, knowing it’s too soon, too much, but he’s in a celebratory mood and all the things he could do to reward himself seem empty without someone by his side. He could go out, get drunk and stupid with the team, but he suspects he’ll spend the whole night missing Tyler’s touch, Tyler’s smile. 

“Afternoon or evening?” the woman asks, and Jamie goes over his obligations in his head. 

“Evening. Eight to ten?” The last time had been good, falling asleep on Tyler’s chest, warm and comfortable, but. Addictive is the word that comes to mind, and a very expensive addiction at that. He’s done some math since he saw Tyler last, and four hours a week for the rest of the season is a really big number. More than he’s comfortable talking to his accountant about--although isn’t there a confidentiality thing there? Like doctors and lawyers? He’s not sure how to ask without needing to know before he does.

“He’s available then,” she tells him. 

“Great,” he says, “Same place?” and she agrees. “Thanks,” he says, and hangs up. 

“Tyler?” Jordie says behind him, and Jamie tries to ignore the guilty skip his heart takes. 

“How’s that rash?” he returns, because he doesn’t want to talk about his hooker with his brother. “Did you get some ointment to clear that up?”

He’s not surprised at all by the punch to the arm Jordie deals him in retaliation.

“Bring him back to our place,” Jordie says anyway, “Look—if you need me to, I can clear out for the night.”

Jamie shakes his head. “We’ve got plans already, but I’ll ask him. For next time.”

Jordie’s face lights up. “Yeah? Next time? What’ll that make, five dates?”

It’s Jamie’s turn to thwack Jordie. “Fuck off. It’s not serious.”

“Tell that to your stupid smile,” Jordie says in the superior way only older brothers can manage. 

Jamie aims a swat at the back of his head as he walks away, but really, that grin is there to stay.

============

Jamie keeps smiling as he checks into the hotel and texts the agency with the room number. He tries to get comfortable while he waits, taking his shirt off and then feeling too naked to get the door and putting it back on. He wonders how many times he would have to do this to not be nervous anymore.

Tyler knocks right at eight and Jamie pulls the door open. “Hey,” Tyler says, and his eyes dart to Jamie’s mouth like he wants to lick him. Jamie steps back and Tyler comes in enough to close the door behind him, but he doesn’t walk past to the living area. He steps into Jamie’s space instead, the cold air from outside the hotel still clinging to the starched white cotton of his shirt. He leans in, brushes a kiss over Jamie’s lips. More ‘hello’ than burning lust, but perfect, so exactly what Jamie wants in that second. 

“Yeah?” Tyler grins when he pulls back. One hand settles in against Jamie’s hip like it belongs there, like it fits. 

“It was a good couple days,” Jamie says, “I had a business trip. And we did good.” 

“That’s awesome,” Tyler answers and Jamie knows that he’s paying him, but it’s hard to imagine that smile is bought.

“I want to fuck you,” Jamie adds, and Tyler’s grin goes crooked and lecherous. 

“Hell yeah,” he grins, and loops two fingers into Jamie’s belt loops and walks himself backwards towards the bed, dragging Jamie along with him. 

Jamie feels strong, feels like a winner, invincible. He grabs Tyler around the waist and tosses him back onto the bed, and Tyler sprawls for him, legs spread. He rubs himself through his slacks, watches Jamie through hungry narrowed eyes and it’s just _obscene_.

Jamie grabs Tyler by the ankle and flips him over, and Tyler’s hands disappear between himself and the bed and then he’s pulling his pants down, baring that amazing ass. Jamie drags the slacks off of Tyler’s legs, grins when Tyler is left with nothing but dark dress-socks on below the waist. He spreads Tyler’s knees, watches him squirm. 

Tyler reaches for his bag, spills condoms and lubes across the bed-cover, and Jamie wants to take him apart almost as much as he wants to get inside of him. He pops the cap on one of the tubes of lube and pours it slick and sloppy over Tyler’s hole, chases it with two fingers and slides them into him. 

“Fuck!” Tyler groans, rocking back into Jamie’s touch, like it’s not enough, and Jamie adds a third finger in there, twisting and thrusting. He finds Tyler’s prostate and rubs it hard with his fingertips.

“Wait, wait,” Tyler gasps, but it’s too late and Jamie watches in wonder as he spasms around Jamie’s fingers, the way his body clenches up in little pulses as he comes, comes for Jamie, because of him. 

Jamie strokes him softly through the aftershocks, drawing out the last little gasps, the last soft shudders. Tyler is flattened on the mattress, every part of him lax and fucked-out. Jamie pulls his fingers out, and then toys with the edge of his hole just because he can, watching the muscle twitch under his touch.

“Yer still gon’ fuck me, right?” Tyler slurs into the pillows and wiggles his butt. Jamie swats him, and Tyler snorts. “I’m not kiddin’ here,” he says, and god, he’s so beautiful like this, soft and relaxed and letting Jamie be in charge. 

He steps back and strips, tossing his shirt and jeans up on the bed by Tyler’s head so he’ll know Jamie is with the program. He slides a condom over himself and crawls up the bed. Tyler raises his hips to meet him, and Jamie slides into his relaxed body. 

Tyler groans, over-stimulated and half-breathless still, the white of his shirt crisp under Jamie’s hand as he braces himself between Tyler’s shoulder-blades. He looks down, watches his dick sliding up into Tyler’s ass, the slick-wet noises of it, fuck. 

“Oh god,” Tyler pants, “That feels…so much. Oh god it’s so much,” nearly delirious with it all.

Jamie picks up the pace, pulls Tyler’s hips in to meet his thrusts, three, four, five times and then he’s coming, has a split-second fantasy of doing this bare, feeling his come filling up Tyler’s ass, wants it so bad he can taste it.

He collapses down, panting for air, and Tyler makes a contented hum underneath him. 

They lie like that a while, until Jamie starts to go soft and he doesn’t want to lose the condom so he grabs hold of it and pulls out. 

“That was…wow,” Tyler mutters, rolls over onto his back and pulls Jamie back down on him. His smile is goofy, dazed. Jamie feels warmth spreading on his cheeks, and hopes it doesn’t show.

It feels good, to just sprawl against each other, and Jamie plays with the buttons of Tyler’s shirt, slowly opening one after the other, high on the feeling of being allowed to do what he wants, touch however he likes. He slips his hand in under the fabric, spreads it open slow, teasing himself with every inch of exposed skin. 

And then he frowns, because there, just over Tyler’s lower ribs on the right size, is a bruise, more compact than a fist would leave, bigger than a thumb-print. “I didn’t do that?” Jamie asks, but that’s not really the right question, because if there’s one thing he knows, it’s bruises, and this one is starting to yellow at the edges, clearly a few days old. He didn’t make it throwing Tyler on the bed.

The last response he would have expected from Tyler is a snicker, for him to throw an arm over his eyes like he can’t bear to look at Jamie.

“You didn’t do it,” Tyler agrees, and Jamie strokes a finger around the perimeter, and then pokes Tyler’s waist. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, because where the bruise came from is none of his business, but Tyler being silly is.

Tyler rolls over and straddles Jamie’s waist, pins his hips with his knees. Stretches like he’s showing the mark off instead of trying to hide it. “For the record, ‘No-contact hockey’ is the biggest lie in the English language.” 

Jamie blinks, trying to reconcile hockey and Tyler together. 

“Beginners B is a hell of a lot more dangerous than the OHL. They’re just brave enough to get in there, but still don’t know where both ends of their sticks are at the same time.”

Jamie blinks again, warring impulses leaving him unable to smile or frown. Tyler plays hockey; he has to know who Jamie is. But. Tyler plays hockey, and that is so fucking awesome. 

“Where do you play?” he asks, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. 

Tyler smirks. “What day of the week?” He shrugs. “I can find a game to drop-in most days that I’m not working. Even with those NHL guys hogging the ice up in Frisco.”

Jamie’s smile slides off his face. Too close. Him and Tyler in the same building together in the light of day, around his team and management and the camera-happy fans. “Shit,” he breathes, and Tyler shoves off of him, sighing like Jamie is too stupid for words.

“NDA, remember? I’m not dumb enough to make trouble for you, especially where you work. I don’t show up at your practices, I don’t sit at the glass for warm-ups. It’s not like I’m planning to ambush you in the fucking autograph line. You wouldn’t even know I’d stepped foot in the Dr. Pepper Center if I hadn’t just told you.”

Jamie can see how he’s overstepped. He sits up, head bowed. “Sorry, I…”

Tyler closes his eyes, presses his lips in a tight line. “No. It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of other places to skate. You won’t see me there. Ever.”

Jamie takes a breath. He wants the security of keeping Tyler far from his professional life. Wants control of this situation. But it’s not fair of him to ask, and he’d feel guilty if he tried to take something like this away from Tyler.

“You don’t.” Jamie draws his lower lip between his teeth, sucks on it for a second. “I’ve got no right to say where you go when you’re not with me. And I trust you. I’m sorry I freaked out, I just…”

Tyler’s frown softens and he steps back in close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, and he tips Jamie’s head up, kisses him softly. “If I see you by accident, I won’t be the one giving anything away.”

Jamie huffs a laugh. “Have you seen my interviews? I am a shitty actor. If I have to fake not-knowing you, I’m doomed.”

“I’ll make it easy,” Tyler promises, and he makes everything easy, so Jamie believes him.


	6. Attempted Stalking, Jamie, seriously?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Alakeeffectgirl for the beta on this chapter!

The problem with knowing Tyler skates, that Tyler _plays_ is that Jamie wants to _see_. He starts lingering at the iceplex, whenever his schedule is close to any of the adult game-times. He shows up for meetings with management on Saturday an hour early, lingers half an hour after they’re done. Stands off to the side of the bleachers and watches amateur teams warm-up, full-face masks and mismatched sweaters. He knows it’s dumb, but he’s sure he would recognize Tyler by the way he moves, the way he skates. 

He thinks he’s being subtle, but Jordie catches that there’s something going on—it’s like a big-brother super-power.

“So why are we here at nine, when practice isn’t until ten-thirty?” he asks as they watch some truly horrible hockey, sipping coffee from the iceplex’s Tim Horton’s vending machine because Jamie wasn’t willing to wait for the coffee-maker at home to run.

“You don’t want to carpool, you can drive yourself,” Jamie tells him, eyes on the ice. He’s not even sure what he’s looking for. Doesn’t know if Tyler will be the best or the worst out there, if he’ll have good hands or long strides. He could be any of a dozen guys, or not here at all.

“You’re pissy today,” Jordie says and sips from his wax-paper cup. “When’s the last time you got laid?” 

It’s not exactly fair, since Jamie is paying for it and Jordie is hooking up on his own merits, but Jamie snipes back “More recently than you,” and Jordie pouts. 

Some kids notice them off to the side and come up begging autographs and they sign some hats and t-shirts. By the time they get free again, the C teams have left the ice and Jamie hadn’t gotten a good look at a single face.

“You should call Tyler,” Jordie advises as they head up to the offices to chill in the lounge while the locker room clears out. “You know. If he exists.”

Jamie shoulder-checks him. “He’s real.” Jamie has had to move money from his savings account to checking to cover how real Tyler is.

Jordie snorts. “I’ll believe it when I meet him.”

 

============

 

Christmas time is tough. All of Tyler’s family that isn’t Livvie are back home in Canada. Mrs. Busari doesn’t celebrate it, and it seems a waste to do too much at the apartment when it’s just him and Livvie. He gets a table-top tree and a bow for the door and calls it good.

He second-guesses himself when he pulls up at the Hudson’s to drop her off on Friday evening. The place looks like the twelve reindeer took a festive dump on the place, the sharp modern lines of the structure softened by loops of lights, the topiaries glowing balls of sparkles. The square house itself has been dressed up like a giant present, a bow the size of Tyler’s car on top. 

“Look at this, Livvie,” he says, forcing brightness. He’s just glad that Christmas falls on a Wednesday, that it won’t be their weekend it falls on this year.

“Lookit the lights!” she yells.

“Cool, huh?” He goes around and opens her door, leans in and unfastens the car-seat buckles. He puts her on the sidewalk and she runs up towards the door. 

“Lookit the lights! Daddy! Lookit!”

“I see, I see,” he laughs. 

The door opens, and Mrs. Hudson comes out, so coiffed and manicured and stiff. She smiles when she sees Livvie though. 

“Olivia! Merry Christmas!” 

Livvie runs into her arms and Tyler lingers back, Livvie’s satchel on his shoulder. 

“Tyler,” Mrs. Hudson says. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” he says, even though he hates this part, hates hugging Livvie goodbye and walking away. 

He passes over Livvie’s bag.

“Anything I should be aware of?” Mrs. Hudson asks. 

Tyler shakes his head. “She ate a snack on the way over, but she might be hungry soon. There’s a baggie with M&Ms—I’ve been giving her a few every time she sleeps dry through the night.”

“Well,” Mrs. Hudson says. “Thank you, and we’ll see you Sunday? Same time?”

Tyler nods and scratches the back of his neck.

“Sounds like a plan.” He crouches down and opens his arms, and Livvie runs in for a quick hug.

“Oh, Tyler,” Mrs. Hudson says while he’s hugging Livvie. “We were wondering if the two of you would like to come over Christmas Eve. Spend the night here and celebrate under the big tree.”

“Oh! Can we? Can we?” Livvie asks and squirms in his arms. 

He puts on his best work smile. He loses the holiday being just between him and Livvie if he says yes, he breaks her heart if he says no.

“Alyssa’s not coming?” It’s the only deal-breaker he can think of. If Alyssa shows up unexpectedly the restraining order could get her arrested. 

“She’s in Cancun with her friends.”

Great.

“Yeah, sure. We’d be happy to.”

She smiles, satisfied. “We’ll see you around three on Christmas Eve?”

“Sure!” Like he has any say in the planning at all.

The presents he bought Livvie are going to look like shit next to the Hudson’s. 

“Lovely!” She turns down to look at Livvie. 

Tyler makes himself let her go.

“Hmm, I have been making cookies, I wonder if some little girl would be willing to test them out for me…” Mrs. Hudson says, and saying ‘bye to daddy pales in comparison. Livvie runs off into the house without a backwards glance.

“Good night, Tyler,” Mrs. Hudson says, a clear dismissal. 

“You too,” Tyler says again. 

The door closes in front of him and he takes a deep breath. 

The only good part about Livvie’s weekends with her grandparents is that Tyler can take extra appointments, work his ass off, get caught up on his sleep and maybe find a game to play in. 

The bad part is that he’d sacrifice all that to not have to bring her here.

==========

 

Jamie presses slow kisses to the sweaty dip of Tyler’s lower back. The room smells of sex and them, and he wishes it could be like this every night. Wishes he could come home to Tyler instead of two hour appointments that are leaving him increasingly hungry for more.

“Hey,” he mumbles against Tyler’s skin. “You do like—escort stuff? Arm candy for guys that are out and want to show off? That kind of thing?” 

Tyler rolls over, and Jamie resettles his grip around his hip, nuzzles in against the firm line of his abs. “Why’re you asking?” he wonders. “You know somebody that needs a date?” 

Jamie hums, uncertain. What he’s wanting probably won’t work. More likely to blow up in his face than yield anything good. 

“My brother. Wants to meet the guy he thinks I’ve been seeing. I tell him it’s just fucking around but he still wants a face-to-face.”

Tyler’s stomach jumps in surprise. “With me?”

Jamie nods against his skin, closes his eyes. Dumb. So dumb.

“I thought you wanted me as far from the rest of your life as possible.”

Jamie sighs, and waits. After a minute or so, Tyler starts petting his hair, breaking up the shell of gel and combing his fingers through it. 

“He knows I’m gay,” Jamie says at last, like it will help. “He’s uh, he’s bi so it’s kind of…” Jamie doesn’t know what it is at all.

“Will he play along if he sees me somewhere else?” Tyler asks, and Jamie thinks that maybe he’s just protecting his investment, making sure Jamie doesn’t have a reason to stop seeing him, but it sounds like honest concern for Jamie’s secrets.

“If I tell him to, yeah. He’s not as smooth as me though.”

That gets him a laugh, “Good to know,” Tyler tells him, and then, “Look. Hourly rate stays the same. I don’t do exhibition. Absolutely no photos. I don’t do less than a one-to-one pro to client ratio.”

Jamie shudders. “Ew. No. Seriously, no.” 

Tyler snickers, and Jamie figures he deserved a little teasing. 

“Make the appointment like usual,” Tyler tells him. “Send the address. I’ll pre-authorize the house-call with the agency.”

============


	7. It's just dinner, right?

“What does he like to eat?” Jordie asks for the fifth time, wandering the maze of Central Market. This is the third pass through the meat department, past bison steaks and two-foot long slabs of fresh salmon, signature sausages and racks of lamb. 

“Anything,” Jamie answers, “No jalapenos.” 

Jordie groans. “You’re a useless boyfriend; I hope you know that.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “It isn’t like that,” he says. This entire shopping trip is like one long recurring cycle of deja vu. 

“Call him and ask what he wants,” Jordie orders, and then makes a grab for Jamie’s phone. “Nevermind. I’ll do it,” and he starts thumbing through the call history before Jamie can snatch it out of his hands. They scrap for the phone there between the lobster tank and a rack of specialty spices, and Jamie wins by having an inch longer reach, lifting the phone out of Jordie’s range and then turning and stuffing the phone deep into the front pocket of his jeans. Uncomfortable, but hopefully a place where even Jordie won’t trespass to get it.

“I’m not bugging him at work,” Jamie says, and it must sound reasonable because Jordie frowns but lets it drop. 

“Steak or fish?” he asks, and Jamie snorts.

“You overcook fish and undercook steak. At least the steak we can reheat when we get to the raw part.”

Jordie concedes the point and when the butcher calls his number he orders about ten pounds of the grass-fed Angus.

Jamie pushes the cart when the meat is cut and wrapped and tries to get over the certainty that this is all a disaster unfolding in front of his eyes.

============

Jamie might hope for Tyler to be late, for Tyler to cancel on him. His palms are sweaty when there’s a knock on the door at exactly seven, and he walks to open it like a man going to the gallows. 

Tyler’s smile is a little too bright, a little forced. Jamie has to reevaluate all the times he thought Tyler might be faking it for the sake of a paycheck, because if this is him trying to look happy and natural, then those other smiles must have been at least a little real. This strained smile is new, and so is the way he’s dressed. He looks like a total bro, from the Texas Rangers ball cap to the dark, v-necked t-shirt and gray zip-up hoodie, to the low-slung jeans and the deck-shoes.

“Hey,” Jamie says as he lets him in, and Tyler steps up like he’d like a kiss or maybe a hug but isn’t sure if it’s welcome, if he’s allowed or he should. Jamie can’t help but wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tight, just for a second. “Show no fear,” he whispers in Tyler’s ear and gets a real grin out of him.

“It’s just my dumb brother; don’t let him fuck with you,” he says louder, just to hear Jordie’s offended “Hey!” from the kitchen.

“Whatever he says to you, ignore it,” Jamie says, and he’s only half-kidding. 

Jordie comes around the wall that separates the living room from the dining room and kitchen, wiping his hand on a dishtowel and then flopping it over his shoulder. 

“Hi, I’m Jordie,” he says, and offers his hand to Tyler. “You are way too good-looking for my brother; what’s wrong with you?” 

“Ignore him,” Jamie says again. “He’s got a disease. It affects his brain.”

Tyler laughs and shakes Jordie’s hand. “Nice place you got here,” he comments, and lets Jordie go on about how sad it was here before he moved up from Austin, how Jamie needed somebody with taste to make the place presentable. 

Jordie leads Tyler through to the kitchen as he talks, the steaks in the oven’s broiler filling the air with the rich smell of spices and searing meat. 

“You got plans for Christmas?” Jordie asks as he puts on oven mitts and pulls the rack out of the oven. Jamie can see from the other side of the table they’re under-cooked, but he’s given up coaching Jordie through how to make a decent steak. 

 

“Yeah,” Tyler answers easily, “I’ve got some extended family not far from here, I told them I’d come visit, spend a couple days,” and Jamie feels guilty for how glad he is that Jordie isn’t able to invite Tyler to come to their place for the holiday.

Jamie finishes setting the table and both he and Jordie turn Tyler down when he offers to help with something.

Jamie pops the tops off of three beers and Tyler takes one, leaning against the counter and watching the proceedings while he sips.

“Hey, is he old enough for that?” Jordie asks, like he didn’t buy Val half the bar a week before. Subtle. Real subtle.

“I’ll be twenty-two at the end of January,” Tyler says, indulging Jordie and making sure he knows it. 

“Yeah? When?”

“The thirty-first. As end-of-the-month as you get.”

Jordie nods like he’s filing that data away for later use. He plates the first servings of meat and they all sit down, digging in without ceremony. It feels weird, too casual. He’s not sure if he should be sitting closer to Tyler, if it looks weird to Jordie that they’re not more lovey-dovey, or if it’ll finally get him to shut up about Tyler being someone Jamie _dates_.

“So you skate?” Jordie asks Tyler just as Jamie is taking a bite, and he has to chew and swallow and by then Tyler is grinning and shrugging.

“Yeah, not like you guys. Just pick-up games whenever I’m not working.”

“Yeah?” Jordie asks like he’s making small talk, “Where do you play?”

Jamie kicks him under the table. Jordie kicks him back. There’s a flurry of blows and if Tyler and Jamie were dating? Tyler would be the worst boyfriend ever, because he just leans back in his seat and arches his eyebrow and watches like it’s the most entertaining show he’s ever seen. 

“Am I supposed to answer that?” he asks Jamie when they finish, their shins bruised and cheeks flushed.

“He won’t stop until you do,” Jamie grumbles. Fucking siblings. He’s just glad Jenny isn’t there to add to it.

Tyler shrugs. “There’s about five rinks worth the drive. I’ve got a chart in my phone, who’s playing when, the games that usually have openings for extra skaters on the teams.”

Jordie shoots Jamie a look that says he knows for sure now, why Jamie’s been getting to the Frisco ice early, but thank god he doesn’t mention Jamie’s potential stalking in front of Tyler.

“You any good?” Jordie asks, nosy asshole. If Tyler feels at all disturbed by the question he doesn’t show it. And Jamie—he’s been dying to know, dying to ask, so he doesn’t step in, even though it’s probably over the line of politeness.

Tyler takes a sip of his beer. “I have fun with it. I’ll never go pro, so that’s the important part, yeah?” 

“I guess so,” Jordie says, but like he can’t fathom not being ambitious about hockey. He’s worked so hard at it, probably harder than Jamie has, to get where they are today. “So what do you do for a living?” 

Jamie has one heart-stuttering moment when he’s terrified Tyler will tell the truth, but he answers, “I tend bar at one of the clubs down on Oak Lawn.”

“Is that where you met Jamie?”

Tyler quirks a smile in Jamie’s direction. “You didn’t tell him how we met?” 

“He doesn’t ask _me_ these things.”

“Yeah, I was working,” Tyler answers. “There were cheesy pickup lines all around and me nearly getting fired over a blowjob in the back room.”

Jordie chokes on nothing and Jamie feels a little less grumpy that Tyler didn’t back him up more in the kick-fight earlier. 

“Oh, is that—are we not saying blowjob?” Tyler asks, all mock-innocence as Jordie goes red in the face. “Sorry about that; my bad.”

Jordie coughs a little and clears his throat. “On that note, I’m gonna go finish this in my room and give you two some privacy.” He spears another steak off the broiler pan and grabs another beer out of the fridge and beats a hasty retreat.

“It was nice meeting you!” Tyler calls after him and Jamie cracks up. 

“So.” Tyler waggles his eyebrows. “Blowjob?”

They go to Jamie’s room and Tyler’s lips taste like salt and garlic and steak. Blowjobs are nice, but not enough, not as much as Jamie wants from Tyler. He’d rather have any part of Tyler’s actual skin against his dick than Tyler’s mouth through latex so when Jamie comes it’s rubbing bare against Tyler’s abs, hard and lean in a way that’s impressive even to a professional athlete. 

Later, when they’re waiting out the post-orgasm languor, Tyler sighs “This was so fucking stupid,” and Jamie can’t argue with him, so he doesn’t. It’s said so quietly he doesn’t even know if it was meant for him.

He waits for Tyler to leave, but they watch a show from the bed, and hours go by even though Jamie only asked for two. He doesn’t point it out, doesn’t want to end the night before Tyler does. And the line is blurring again, because it’s like Tyler isn’t working, but he’s still with Jamie, and he doesn’t know what that means.

 

=========

This was so fucking stupid, and Tyler lays in Jamie’s bed, staring up at his ceiling, trying to figure where he fucked up that it seemed like a good idea to do a home visit, to do a meet-the-family. It was different than he expected. He’s done straight-up escort stuff before, playing the boy-toy for bosses and co-workers and ex-boyfriends. This was different, lying to someone that seems to actually care about Tyler’s client’s happiness.

Jamie’s brother seemed...really nice. Tyler replays the interaction. Jamie was the client. Jamie was the one that mattered. Still, this is why Tyler doesn’t take couples as clients without another pro with him. Tyler is good at watching one person, gauging their reactions, giving them what they want, but two is more than twice as hard, especially when they want different things--Jordie to meet Jamie’s boyfriend and Jamie to keep his secret.

It’s fucking stupid, but Tyler lies there, listening for Jordie moving around the apartment. Listens for the TV or music but he can’t tell if Jordie came back to the kitchen or hid in his room. Jamie has another hour of Tyler’s time, and after that’s up, it’s easier to stay than to risk running into Jamie’s brother. Easier to stay than figure out what to say. How to get out without risking getting caught in another lie. 

He lays down on Jamie’s chest. Tyler’s show plays on the tablet but he can’t concentrate. Feels trapped by his own bad decision. Jamie strokes the tattoos on Tyler’s shoulder with a fingertip, and Tyler lets it lull him out of his high-strung state.

It doesn’t matter. Jamie is just another client. Jordie is nobody Tyler will ever meet again.

He’ll just wait a while before he sneaks out. 

No particular reason.

========  
Jamie drowses, half-naked Tyler against his side. He wakes up again and Tyler is out of bed, pulling his jeans on. Leaving.

“Hey, you out of here?” Jamie asks, and Tyler nods.

“Yeah, I gotta go.” He leans over and kisses Jamie goodnight, the brush of his thumb over Jamie’s hip leaving him wanting more. 

“I’ll call,” Jamie promises, feeling the barrier of the agency’s receptionist between them. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” Tyler says, and even if they’re just words, they’re pretty ones.

Jamie’s eyes close again just after his bedroom door does, and he sleeps well, even without Tyler’s warmth beside him. 

It’s eight AM according to his phone, when he wakes up again, stumbles out of his room following the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Jordie is in the kitchen, bacon on the stove and a stack of buckwheat pancakes cooling on a plate beside it. 

“Hey, I didn’t know what Tyler would want for breakfast, so I kind of pulled out all the stops.”

Jamie sighs. Wishes it could be what Jordie thinks it is.

“He’s not much of a morning-after kind of guy.”

Jordie shrugs. “That’s fine. It’ll reheat. You can let him sleep.”

“No. Jordie.” Tyler was right. This was a monumentally stupid idea. “He’s gone. He left last night, he…doesn’t stay.”

“Oh.” Jordie looks a little heartbroken. “But you wanted him to.” It’s not a question. 

Jamie wants to bang his head against the fridge. “That’s not on the table,” he says, and Jordie frowns. 

“Have you asked?” 

Jamie isn’t sure what his face does, but Jordie’s voice breaks off, goes gentle instead of pushy, as close as Jordie ever gets to admitting he’s gone too far.

“I mean. You like him. The refs at our last game would be able to see you like him. And he looks at you like you hung the moon, Jamie. I just. I love you, man. And I want to see you happy.”

“It can’t be like that,” Jamie says, wondering if walking back to his room would end the conversation, or if Jordie would just follow him. 

Jordie sighs and puts the breakfast on the table. Jamie pours himself a mug of coffee and sits down.

“I know I say ‘Never Quit,’” Jordie says, “But if this is gonna tear you up, not getting what you need out of this, maybe you have to think about walking away while you still can.”

Jamie thinks about the ache in his chest, the longing he starts feeling the minute Tyler’s out of his sight. It hurts, but “It’s not great, but it’s better than being alone, y’know?”

Jordie’s hand is warm and heavy on his shoulder. “I know. Just watch yourself. And think about talking to him. You say it isn’t like that, but it sure as hell looks like it.”


	8. On the job hazards

Tyler checks the time on his phone again. Nearly two hours, he’s been sitting here, waiting for the client to see him. He’s wearing a suit and tie and his dress shoes pinch. He’s got his supplies in a briefcase and he feels like an actor with all his props and costuming.

“Mr. Carson will be free in just a moment,” the secretary keeps telling him. He wonders what the hell is so important that the entire office is still buzzing at nearly eight at night on the Friday between Christmas and New Year’s.

“The time I’ve set aside for this meeting is almost up,” Tyler says. He doesn’t like jobs like these, delivering ass to executives that are so busy they can’t even go to where the ass is. He’ll do nooners at hotels, but coming to get fucked at someone’s work always seems a little skeezy. He wonders if the secretary knows what he’s here for.

She types something onto her computer. Pauses and reads. 

“Mr. Carson will see you now,” she says. 

The door to Carson’s office opens and a frazzled looking guy in a jacket speed-walks out and down the hall. 

Carson’s rep at the agency isn’t stellar. He sees a lot of different guys, always likes something new and fresh. His profile has a couple notes about attitude, stingy tips. Gina has started factoring tips into the base price. The agency gets a cut of the tip that way, but at least Tyler will get more than he would by counting on the man’s generosity. 

“There you are,” Carson says like Tyler’s the one who’s late. He’s sitting at his desk, two laptops open in front of him. He’s not a big guy. Tyler has a couple inches of height on him, pounds of muscle. Carson has steel gray hair, hard eyes.

“That’s me, right here,” He gives Carson his flirty smile. 

“Well, get over here,” Carson says, barely looking up from his screens. 

“I hate to be that guy,” Tyler says. “But your two hours are almost up.”

That gets Carson’s attention. He glares up at Tyler. 

Tyler shrugs. “You could book a third if you want to. I’m already here.”

“What, I’m supposed to pay you for sitting at reception?”

“My time is money. If you don’t want the extra hour, I can just go.” He gestures over his shoulder, takes a half-turn step towards the door, testing how much Mr. Carson wants to fuck.

“Wait! Fine, another hour, but you’re gonna earn it.”

Tyler smiles, slow and predatory. “I always earn it,” he says. He walks across the Oriental rug, spins Carson’s chair to face him, straddles his lap. 

“Tell me how you want it.” 

Carson is pretty predictable as he slides the computers to one side of the desk, leaving most of it bare. “Face down. Right there.”

Ugh, one of those.

Tyler makes his breath hitch, puts his teeth on his lower lip in a show of nerves. 

Carson’s eyes go hungry and Tyler stands up, hesitates and then puts his hands on the desk, leans out over it. 

It’s completely anticipated when Carson grabs his ass, palming over Tyler like he owns him but Tyler gasps, stiffens against the touch. 

“Look at you, trying to negotiate,” Carson murmurs. He gropes at Tyler’s crotch, just short of painful. Carson doesn’t like paying for extras, and Tyler hadn’t cleared him for any kink. If it gets any rougher at all, Tyler’s ready to call it off.

Carson reaches around and unfastens Tyler’s belt and then his pants, sliding them down his legs with his underwear. Just watch this jerk get jizz on his good suit-jacket. He’ll put that on the file for the next guy— “add drycleaning fees up front”. 

“Step out of that,” Carson says, and Tyler toes off his shoes, steps out of the tangle of cloth. 

Carson goes back to touching him, prodding at his ass with a dry finger.

“Lube,” Tyler says, the uncertainty gone from his voice. “Lube and condoms, that’s absolutely firm.” 

The latches on Tyler’s briefcase pop, and Carson’s fingers come back slick. He sticks them into Tyler, not exactly gentle. Asshole. Tyler moans like he can’t decide if he likes it or not. Carson prods around for a little while and then pulls away. Tyler glances over his shoulder and watches Carson put the condom on. 

The hand on the back of Tyler’s jacket pushes down at the same time Carson kicks his feet further apart. 

Tyler makes a startled sound then breaks it off ragged as Carson grabs his hips, lines them up. 

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can barely walk out of here,” Carson says, and Tyler, safely facing down, rolls his eyes. 

Carson pushes in, slower than Tyler expected but faster than he’d like. That little grunt of reaction isn’t faked, and it takes him a second to relax into it, to go along with it. 

“Oh,” he says when he’s more acclimated to the intrusion. “Oh fuck, oh fuck you’re so big.”

He needs to run to Wal-mart while Livvie is with the grandparents. Easier to do it without her when he can. Are they out of peanut butter? 

“Fucking whore,” Carson hisses, starts to really get to pounding. “Make you fucking earn it, three hours pay for one fuck.”

Tyler moans, throaty and broken. Bread, cheese, that good pesto spread. No wait, that’s only at Central Market and they’ll be closed by the time Tyler is done here. Shit, maybe he can get up early in the morning and stop by on his way to the Hudsons’.

Carson fucks like a ticking clock, every stroke the same speed, the same depth. He’ll need a nudge if Tyler wants to ever get this over with.

“Fucking slut. How many men did you let fuck you today?”

Tyler moans, hitches his hips up a little. “So many. So fucking many. I set up shop in the janitor’s closet while I was waiting for you. Lined them up down the hall at twenty bucks each. Got fucked until I was dripping with their come.”

Carson gives three more bumps and then comes. Finally. He seems to like the little distress noises Tyler makes, so he gives another one as Carson pulls out. 

Carson collapses back into his chair, his dick still hanging out of his fly. Classy. He’s breathing hard. He nods towards Tyler’s pants when he sees Tyler looking. Doesn’t seem like he’s the afterglow type. 

Tyler pulls his underwear on. Shy glances to see that Carson is still watching him.

“How much?” Carson asks. 

“Hm? For what?” 

Tyler shakes out his pants, slips one foot in.

“For the thing you talked about. You. In the closet. The row of men.”

Tyler is very proud of how he doesn’t roll his eyes. 

“That’s not something that’s on my menu,” he says. He starts to pull his pants up.

“Anything’s for sale, with people like you.”

Tyler restrains himself, but only for a second. He is definitely not seeing this guy again, and he’s got enough of a record with the agency that one bad review won’t tank him. Waiting two hours burned through his patience. He’s kind of sore and he’s going home to an empty apartment. His self-restraint is not at its strongest.

“Nah, it’s just a line I use to get it over with when some old fuck is taking too long.”

Where the hell did his shoes go? He just wants to get dressed and get out of here. 

He’s looking away and the blow catches him by surprise, an impact against his left eye so sudden that he doesn’t understand what happened at first. He stumbles into the desk and loses his footing. The fancy rug leaves a burn on his left knee.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” Carson steps over him, grabs Tyler up by his lapels. 

Tyler tries to twist away from the next hit, to get his hands up. He takes it to the mouth, tastes blood. 

“Get the fuck off of me,” Tyler hisses. No cops no cops no cops he repeats to himself. No anything that’d make the receptionist call the police. He grabs Carson’s littlest finger and bends it back a way it wasn’t meant to. That gets him the space to get his wits together. “The fuck is wrong with you?” 

Carson yanks his hand away from Tyler’s grip but he comes back again in the same breath, pushing Tyler down, closing his fingers around Tyler’s throat.

The fear hits Tyler then, as much of a blow as the fist had been. He could die. This asshole could kill him and he’d be dead and Livvie’d be alone. 

He struggles for breath, claws at Carson’s fingers. He brings his knee up. He can’t get Carson in the balls from this angle, but a blow to the end of his tail-bone is almost as good. Carson arches back and Tyler takes in a lung-full of air, scrambles to his feet. 

Fuck this. Fuck discretion, fuck reputation and double-fuck this asshole. He grabs his phone off of the floor and then he rushes to the door, looking behind him to make sure Carson isn’t going to throw a chair at him or something. 

“Son of a bitch!” Carson swears, writhing on the floor. Tyler tries to breathe, but it feels like Carson’s hands are still around his throat, weight on his chest. His pulse pounds in his head.

Tyler bursts out of Carson’s office. The offices around Carson’s are dark, everyone gone home since Tyler went in. It’s only been a few minutes and he’s alone on the floor with this asshole.

Fuck. 

Fuck, what if he fucked Carson up—what if he broke his tail-bone. Shit. 

He puts a hand to his lip as he jogs barefoot to the elevator. His eye is swelling shut.

The cool steel doors close behind him and the elevator sinks, every floor one more floor away from Carson. 

His hands shake as he texts for his cab. He turns the camera on the phone to selfie-mode and takes snaps of his face. Sends them to the agency without a word of explanation. He doesn’t know what to say that his injuries won’t. The boy in the pictures looks angry. 

And scared.

The elevator hits the ground floor. There are two security guards chatting together at a desk by the door out, but they’re to keep undesirables out of the building, not to keep them in. Tyler walks like he belongs here, thumbing through his phone as he strides through the glossy expanse of the lobby, head down to hide his face. The marble is cold through his socks, the sidewalk outside even more so, but nobody stops him. His phone buzzes with an incoming text. 

**Gina:**  
WTF  
Are you ok?  
Carson?

Another text comes before Tyler can compose an answer to that. His cab almost there.

A vagrant crosses paths with him as Tyler hustles away from the scene of the crime. Older man, sun-browned and deep-wrinkled. He pauses in front of Tyler, takes in Tyler from his busted face to his shoeless-feet. 

“And I thought I was having a shitty day,” the guy says, and continues on his way. 

Tyler sees the burgundy and gold of his cab and raises his hand to catch the driver’s attention. It’s not Ibrahim this time. 

“Just drive,” Tyler says. “Please.”

**Tyler:**  
I fucked up  
Got him mad didn’t watch  
Hit me  
Hit him  
Had to  
Choking me

He doesn’t even know how deep the shit he’s in is. Doesn’t know what’ll happen if Carson tries to get the cops involved. Fuck.

The cab slows and turns and Tyler looks up. They’re in a fast-food drive-thru. The driver orders a salad, a water and a cup of ice. Tyler is too fucked to even protest. 

They park, and the driver takes the plastic bag the plasticware and the dressing pack came in, pours some of the ice into it and passes it back.

The unexpected kindness catches in Tyler’s throat. He feels close to crying for the first time that night.

“Thanks,” he says, voice hoarse from more than Carson’s hands around his throat.

**Gina:**  
Take a breath  
We’ll take care of this  
Get somewhere safe and call me

Tyler follows the order, puts the icepack on his eye and closes the other one. One breath after another. Gina’s on it. 

He has a wild thought, having the driver take him to Jamie’s place. Letting Jamie fuss over him, take care of him. Let him play the white knight he’s so obviously eager to be. 

If it wouldn’t hurt, he’d laugh at himself. 

He gives the driver the address to where his car is parked instead.


	9. Worlds collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mostfantasticdream for the beta on Ch 9-12!

Tyler disappears for a bit around Christmas. Jamie tries to make an appointment on the 23rd, and again on the 28th but he’s not available. The holidays themselves are crazy for him, between official Stars events and games and half the players having some sort of impromptu party that he can’t avoid as captain. He finally has an opening on January third, so he books it, missing Tyler like crazy by then.

January second, he misses a call, and when he gets a chance to check his voice mail, it’s the agency. “We’re sorry, but your appointment needs to be rescheduled. Please call so we can discuss dates and times.”

His stomach sinks, not disappointment but trepidation. It’s only the sixth time he’s seen Tyler. Maybe a cancellation isn’t so weird. He calls the agency from a hotel room in Anaheim. 

“Hi, this is Tyler’s client for tomorrow,” he says, when the receptionist answers the phone. 

“Ah. I’m sorry we had to cancel on such short notice,” she says, “Tyler will not be available on that day, but we can schedule you any of our other hosts at a discount to make up for the inconvenience.”

“No, that’s…when will Tyler be available again? I’d rather just wait.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, “We do not have a return date for him at this time.” 

“Is it…” Jamie has a sudden punch of fear. “Is he sick? Should I get tested? Is he okay?”

“Tyler is taking a few days.” She sounds like her patience is being sorely tried. “There is nothing to be concerned about. When he is available again, we can call you and let you know, and we’ll reserve you a priority spot for his next possible appointment.”

It takes about a second for Jamie to shift from worrying about himself back to worry for Tyler.

“Can you have him call me? Please?” He’s never felt so helpless. “I can. I can pay him for his time for the phone call. I just. What the hell?” 

“I can pass your number on to him if that’s what you want, but whether or not he calls is his own decision.”

“Please,” Jamie repeats. “Tell him I would really appreciate it.”

“I will,” she assures him. “Are you sure there’s no other gentleman you’d like to meet?”

“I’m sure,” Jamie says, and then “Thank you. Goodbye.”

He sits on the bed with the phone in his hands. He’s an idiot, and has been for a while. He cares about, _loves_ a man who is paid to smile at him, paid to make him happy for two hours at a time. It hasn’t been just sex since the first time Tyler walked into a hotel room, not for him at least. 

He’s in love with a man who can walk away from him without a word, without a thought.

He’s fucked. He’s so fucked.

=================  
Tyler sinks down into the tub as far as he can, knees sticking up and his neck bent at an unfriendly angle, but the water is deep and warm. He knows the heat will aggravate the swelling in his face, the bruising around his throat. There’s comfort in it though, being surrounded and cushioned, the world muffled when he gets his ears below the waterline.

Sound may be muffled, but he still hears his phone, sitting on the towel on the toilet seat. He cracks his eyes open. It could be the Hudsons, an emergency with Livvie, or the agency calling. He wipes his hand on the towel and swipes his phone on. 

Ian. 

“Hey.”

He puts it on speaker and sinks back into the tub. 

“Hey yourself. Are you okay?”

For all the agency’s emphasis on privacy and confidentiality, they’ve got a pretty good instinct for letting the people who care about you know when you need them. 

“Yeah. I’m okay. Banged up some. Gina says it doesn’t look like he’s gonna make trouble for me hitting him back. Something about a subpoena nullifying the NDA. ”

Ian sighs. “Shit, Ty. I am so sorry.”

Tyler frowns. “For what? For getting me into this job? Dude, I coulda got this hurt getting mugged taking the trash at the bar out, or being in the middle of a brawl. I’m okay.”

Ian groans. “Stop making so much sense. Since when are you the smart one?”

Tyler snorts. “Since never.” 

He gets it, Ian feeling responsible. He’d been the one who recruited Tyler, flirting at the bar and going back to Ian’s after Tyler got off work. They’d had some of the best sex of Tyler’s life that night, and after, Ian had said “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you thought of going pro?”

It was Ian who’d done doubles with him his first couple jobs. Ian pointing him towards clients Ian had a good history with. 

He’s a good friend who’s had his dick in every applicable orifice Tyler has. The only person who knows both what he does for a living and who he lives for when he’s not working. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Tyler sighs. “But if you wanted to, just to be nice, you could stop by with takeout when you’re done for the night.”

“The usual?”

Tyler smiles. “Yeah.”

============  
“Why do we have like a gallon of humus and nothing to eat it with?” Jamie asks, poking through the stuff Jordie added to their cart. Central Market is a madhouse. Apparently everybody and their cousin made ‘eat better’ their New Year resolution. Add that to the usual Saturday rush and there’s barely enough room to breathe.

They’re already in the checkout line, but the lanes are stacked four carts deep and growing. They are definitely not express-lane material, with their cart piled to the top with a week or more of fresh food.

“There’s this thing called a spoon. It’s food. You can eat food with a spoon,” Jordie says, and maybe Jamie’s pissy attitude for the last two days is starting to wear on him. “Or just put it on the rosemary bread. It’ll be fine.”

“No. Ugh. Sans.” Rosemary bread is sacred, only to be eaten warmed with butter. You don’t just _put stuff_ on the rosemary bread.

Jamie calculates the distance through the maze back to the shelf with pita bread on it, and hey, he should probably get some sprouts or something else to go with it. The line is not moving. 

“I’m gonna go get stuff for the humus,” he announces, and Jordie makes a protest behind him. 

“Make it quick! I’m not waiting for you!”

Without a cart, Jamie can navigate the crowded maze a little easier than most, taking the shortcut between the bins of olives-by-the-pound and the freezer cases, trying to remember where he saw the end-cap of bread he wanted. Maybe the crunchy pita-crisps would be just as good.

“Daddy! Daddy, look! It’s Jamie Benn daddy! It’s Jamie Benn.” 

Jamie reaches in his pocket for the ever-present Sharpie, takes a breath and gets ready to put on his for-the-fans smile.

“I know, baby,” the father’s voice says, “I hear you, Livvie; you’re right, you just don’t have to say it so loud,” 

“Tyler?” the name is on his lips before his conscious mind has processed that he knows that voice. For one horrifying second he thinks he’s gone insane, but then he sees the purple balloon floating on the other side of an aisle rack and follows the green ribbon down with his eyes and there’s Tyler, pushing a cart in the god-damn grocery store, a little blond child in the seat in front of him. 

Tyler looks over at Jamie at the sound of his name, and the sight of him is like a blow. Somebody—fuck, somebody hurt him. There’s a fading bruise on his left eye, and a half-healed split in his lower lip. There are tiny prickles of red on the skin around his eyes, like freckles where there had never been before.

“Jesus,” Jamie breathes, “Are you…”

“No.” Tyler’s voice leaves no room for negotiation. “No, not here. Don’t you do this, Jamie.” 

The little girl’s eyes have gone wide and she’s no longer calling Jamie’s name. 

“Come on, baby, stand up for me. Pull your legs out of the seat, okay?” She does, and how fucking weird is it to hear Tyler saying ‘baby’ in a voice that’s so different than the one Jamie knows for that word. Tyler wraps her in his arms and pulls her to his chest, one hand under her thighs and the other behind her shoulders. 

“I’ll call you. I swear. Just don’t do this now, Jamie, not here.”

Jamie can’t stop staring, at the little girl, _Olivia_ , at Tyler’s battered face, at Tyler leaving his shopping and _walking away_. But he can’t grab him, can’t make him stay, and Tyler is so obviously upset that Jamie is terrified of making it worse, doing the wrong thing.

He stands there, stupidly, other shoppers shooting him dirty looks as they have to maneuver around him. He finally gets his body to move. Chasing Tyler and his kid to the parking lot would be a dick move, so he walks back to where he left Jordie.

“Couldn’t find it?” Jordie asks. He’s already through the line, waiting with the groceries bagged up. “Are you…shit, are you okay?”

“I ran into Tyler,” he says, and he can hear in his own voice how shaky he is. “He’s got a kid. He’s. Tyler’s a dad.” His mind replays every second of their interaction, the way Tyler looked softer than Jamie had ever seen him, a warm brown sweater with sleeves halfway down his hands, a dark red scarf around his throat. He wants to tell Jordie how Tyler had looked, the bruises, the marks. That wasn’t hockey, at least not the no-contact kind played with full-face protection.

“Holy shit,” Jordie says, and hustles Jamie out of the store, one hand on Jamie’s elbow and the other pushing their cart. 

“I knew I didn’t know everything,” Jamie says as he is shoved in the passenger side of his own truck. Jordie closes the door and puts their food in the mesh net in the back, then climbs in the driver’s side.

“It wasn’t like we were dating,” Jamie says, as Jordie starts the engine. It still feels like a shock, like a betrayal, that he didn’t know this. 

“But you wanted to be,” Jordie puts in, “Did you stop to think maybe this is why he wasn’t letting things move forward?”

Jamie clenches his teeth, and Jordie looks over at him when they stop at a red light. Things aren’t moving forward because Tyler is a fucking _hooker_ and there’s no way in hell that can work. He should have stopped seeing Tyler a long time ago, well before Jordie started asking to meet him. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“About _what_?”

Jordie shrugs, deflecting Jamie’s anger by not fighting it, not acknowledging it. “Is it a deal-breaker? So there’s a kid, right. Are you in or out?”

“It was never going anywhere to begin with. If I care that he has a kid doesn’t change anything!”

“Then why are you yelling?”

Jamie deflates, dropping his head into his hands and the truck swerves a little before Jordie gets his eyes back on the road. He stays like that as they turn into the apartment building’s parking garage, until the engine is off and there’s sudden quiet around them.

“He’s a prostitute, Jordie.”

The silence stretches, and Jordie’s voice is higher than usual when he answers, “Oh, shit, seriously? Did you know?”

Jamie laughs. It’s a mirthless sound. “A hit like that on my credit card every time, yeah, I noticed.”

“Oh, shit.” 

“You said that already.”

“But. You like him. ‘Going somewhere’ or not, you like him, and he’s what?”

“Working. He’s working, Jordie. He. He sees other clients. He. Somebody hurt him. He had. Bruises that he wouldn’t get from the kind of hockey he says he plays. That must be why I haven’t seen him since that dinner with you. I thought…maybe that was too much, fucked it up somehow. It might still have been.”

“Jamie…” Jordie takes just a second to realize what Jamie has known for weeks. There’s no easy fix for this. “Booze or blowing up our diet or both?” 

There’s nothing Jamie wants more than to get blackout drunk and forget he ever met Tyler. 

“He said he’d call. I don’t know when, but I need to be sober when he does.”

“Junk-food it is then,” Jordie says, and restarts the engine, pulls out of the parking garage and heads for Whattaburger. 

 

Jamie is stuffing his face with his third double-double when the text from Tyler comes through, 

_Can we meet instead?_

_Yes_ he answers immediately.

Tyler sends him back an address, _7PM?_

_Yes_

“You think this is a good idea?” Jordie asks, and Jamie shakes his head. 

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t.” He’ll go anyway.

============


	10. Unvarnished

The address Tyler sends him to is in North-Dallas, just off of 75, down increasingly small side streets. The signs on the businesses are less-often in English the further he goes, more Chinese and Korean, others he doesn’t recognize. He wonders if Tyler had an auto-correct fail, but he checks the street number before he goes in, and the small noodle-bar is definitely the address he’s got.

He gets halfway to the door and has to go back to the truck for the package he ran up to Frisco to get, and he stands just outside for a moment and takes a deep breath. There is a small chance this isn’t going to gut him, and he clings to that slim hope. 

He steps inside, and looks around as the hostess heads his way. Tyler is already there, two glasses of water on the table, despite Jamie being fifteen minutes early. He looks good, besides the bruise and cut and that strange flecking around his eyes. He’s dressed the same way as he usually comes to hotel rooms, white shirt, charcoal slacks. Jamie catalogs the tiny differences, the stubble on his cheeks, the way his shirt-sleeves are buttoned at the cuff, not even a hint of ink showing. His collar is loosened, but that dark scarf hides his throat.

The two of them are the only Anglos in the place. Four big-screen TVs stream a steady flow of white-noise non-English--drama and sports and news around the room.

 

“Jamie, hey,” Tyler says as the hostess leads him to Tyler’s table. Stands and shakes his hand like it’s a business meeting and like they never fucked and like Jamie doesn’t know the taste of his skin. 

Tyler sits so Jamie sits too. 

“You seemed upset,” Tyler starts. He looks…cautious. “I couldn’t say much there, in public, with Livvie.”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for Jamie to ask a question. 

“Are you okay?” It’s said in a rush, like he has to get the words in before Tyler slips away again.

“Yeah,” Tyler answers, soft. “Job went sideways on me, but I’m fine. Just a little banged up.”

“Who did this?” Jamie asks, fingers twitching up like they want to trace the edge of that bruise, circle Tyler’s wrist, touch him in any way Tyler will let him. 

The side of Tyler’s mouth quirks up. “If I told you that, you’d have to start doubting the integrity of my signature on the NDA, wouldn’t you?”

Jamie nods and pretends to look down at the menu the hostess handed him. 

“Hey.” Tyler’s voice is soft. “I’m okay. I’ll be back to working in a week or so. I just. I’m taking a few days to get my head back in the game.” He pauses. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Jamie flips the menu. The lamination is bubbled on the back and he tries to crush one of the lumps out with his thumb-nail. 

“I never cared,” Jamie says, and it’s the truth. “That you had other clients. That you saw other people. Not until. Not until they were hurting you.”

Tyler sighs and Jamie feels a little dumb. “Look,” Tyler says, calm and patient. “This kind of work is always a gamble, same as yours. You get banged up sometimes and so do I. I make the best decisions I can, and take as many safety precautions as I can get away with. He isn’t “hurting” me. He hurt me. Once. One time. He’s black-listed now, for the entire agency.”

Jamie doesn’t trust himself to speak. He remembers his package and slides it over the table. “Here, I…”

Tyler frowns and takes the white and green Stars bag. 

“It’s for…your daughter,” Jamie says, and watches as Tyler takes the tiny sweater out of the bag, BENN 14 on the back, “To Olivia, from your biggest fan, Jamie Benn,” in gold sharpie down the numbers.

Tyler’s lip twitches again, like he doesn’t know whether to be tickled or aggravated. 

“She seemed like a fan,” Jamie says, and Tyler nods, folds the jersey up like he wants to give it back but puts it in the bag and then down on the seat beside him.

“She misses going down to the glass for warm-ups,” he says.

“You should bring her down next time,” Jamie says, trying to imagine what it will be like, Tyler watching him skate, watching him play. “I hope the Jersey fits. It’s the smallest reproduction one they had. The rest were for babies.”

“You didn’t have to,” Tyler says.

“I know. Jordie said that’s what you do, when you’re dating a single parent. Bring gifts for the kid.”

“Jamie.” Tyler’s voice goes a little hard, a little stern. “Jamie, you know we aren’t dating, right?” 

Jamie nods. “I know. But. I like you.”

“You don’t even _know_ me,” Tyler says. “This…you can’t just say things like that.”

“I’ve seen you more times than I’ve ever dated anyone,” Jamie admits, and it’s pathetic, he knows it’s pathetic. “I like you more than I liked anyone I ever dated.” 

Tyler rolls his eyes. “You like the guy I pretend to be so you give me money for sex,” he answers. “This?” he gestures from him to Jamie and back. “Sitting here? This is the closest you’ve been to me.”

Jamie sits, stubborn. Refusing to hear, refusing to accept. 

“When you came to the door that first time, you looked so scared,” Tyler says, low under the constant noise of the televisions, “Like you thought the Stars media team and a dozen photographers were going to be there to catch you in a hotel room with a sex worker. I knew I had fifteen seconds to get you to smile or the night was going to be a bust and you’d never come back, so I pulled a line I’d used on a dozen guys before you and got that smile. It is _just_ business.” 

Tyler takes a breath. “Hookers lie, Jamie.” It’s just barely audible—Jamie isn’t sure if he would be able to hear it without having Tyler’s lips to read too. Keeping it quiet but his expression is fierce. “It’s what we do. It’s what I do. For a living.”

Jamie clenches his jaw. He knows Tyler is trying to get him to back off, being cruel to make Jamie keep his messy feelings out of it. He just can’t believe, all the smiles, all the nights Tyler’s stayed later than contracted, all the times Tyler has called him baby and kissed him so sweet. He can’t believe it was all lies — some, but not all of it.

“How many nights a week do you work?” Jamie asks, and Tyler cocks his head like he wasn’t expecting that.

“Most of them.” He shrugs. “Some afternoons.”

“As much as you want, or are you scrambling for new clients?” 

Tyler leans back in his chair, pausing as he tries to figure what kind of answer Jamie is trying to angle him towards. “I fill my schedule,” he admits. It feels like victory. 

“So why did you care?” Jamie asks. “Why work so hard for it? Why meet me here when a text would do?”

“You’re one of my best regulars now,” Tyler says like it’s a confession. “You’re easy to please. Don’t ask for anything I mind doing.”

Jamie feels damned by faint praise, but he’ll take anything Tyler will give him. 

“When you’re ready to work again,” Jamie starts, but no, that’s not exactly what he wants to say. “I’d like to see you again,” and that’s better, closer. “If you just want to hang out or something, while you’re still banged up. I’m here, just call me.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Tyler says, and Jamie can hear a ‘no’ even when it’s not said. 

“I’m gonna head back home.” Jamie stands. Tyler stands too, and he’s the one that steps in, wraps his arms around Jamie and hugs him quick but tight, pushes him back again when Jamie just wants to cling to him and breathe in the scent of him. 

“Go on,” Tyler says, “I’ll make sure you know when I’m working again.”

Jamie goes, pretty sure he said too much, opened himself too wide.


	11. Back on the job

Tyler brings Olivia to the next game. Jamie knows because he sees them at the glass during warm-ups. Her blond hair is braided back from her face and she’s wearing the jersey Jamie sent for her, sleeves rolled up over her tiny arms. 

He can’t…he isn’t sure how much Tyler wants to see of him, so the closest to flirting he does is make eye contact and smile, just once.

Jordie is under no similar restrictions, and he goes over, skates back and forth in front of them, makes faces for Olivia and tosses a puck over for her. 

He doesn’t know where they’re sitting, and he can’t look for them during the game. He’s not sure if he’s glad or disappointed that he hasn’t seen them again by the time the post-game media is done and he’s leaving the AAC with Jordie and Skinner.

He takes a chance, the next day. Sends a text to Tyler, _Did she like the jersey?_ and if Tyler doesn’t reply he’ll never use the number uninvited again.

The answer comes seconds later, _She was mad some bad person wrote on her clothes with markers but I talked her down,_ and Jamie laughs, mostly at himself for being so egotistical that he thought a three-year-old would value his autograph. 

_Sorry about that,_ he sends back, _Tell her I’ll send a good one next time_

Tyler replies with a smiley, and Jamie puts his phone away. 

Two days later, Tyler sends him a picture from the Dallas aquarium, a single shot of a sloth eating apple slices from a tiny hand that might be Olivia’s. Three days after that, one from an arcade, the back of the mini-jersey on a blond child riding a motorcycle simulator. 

It looks like Tyler is having a great week with his little girl. Jamie knows he should be glad for Tyler, but all he can do is miss him.

 

===============

 

Eleven days pass before the agency calls Jamie. “You had asked to be informed when Tyler is taking appointments again,” the receptionist says, and Jamie thinks he should be happier than he is to hear that.

“Yeah, that’s great,” he says, and wonders why he doesn’t feel it. They go over schedules, Jamie’s availability is kind of sparse this time of year, and the soonest compatible slot is three days out. 

Jamie feels nervous, like it’s the first time and not the sixth. Like he doesn’t know the person who will be on the other side of the door. He thinks maybe it’s because he realizes now that he doesn’t. He wants…what he wants doesn’t matter. He’ll take what he can get.

Tyler knocks at eight, and Jamie kind of wishes he’d gotten candles delivered with the meal he’d ordered, but that would be too much, so he’s glad he didn’t. He opens the door, and Tyler is there, looking like sex personified. His crisp white shirt has the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up like Jamie likes it. The cocky smile is on his lips, invitation and challenge both. 

“Hey,” Tyler says, his eyes tracking Jamie’s mouth. “Miss me?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and he wants to drag him in, plunder his mouth and blow him here in the entryway. But he wants more than that too, and he thinks maybe he needs to show Tyler, that Jamie wants to know him. Wants to give him more than this dick. 

“I got dinner delivered,” Jamie says as he steps back, lets Tyler follow him into the room instead of dragging him. “In case you’re hungry. I thought…maybe we could watch a movie and hang out?”

Tyler raises an eyebrow like he’s something between amused and insulted, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He sits down at the little table across from Jamie, makes appreciative noises when Jamie lifts the lids off of their plates. “Surf and turf? You know you’re already getting laid tonight, right?” he asks, and Jamie shrugs, self-conscious. 

“If you don’t want ‘whatever,’ then you need to tell me what you like.” He sounds defensive. Wishes he didn’t sound so defensive.

“No,” Tyler says, backing off his teasing. “No, this is fine. I’m not really picky, I just…” he picks up his fork and knife and slices off a piece of the steak, eyes down. Stuffs the bite in his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk.

Tyler being unhappy wasn’t Jamie’s goal, but somehow it feels real to see that Tyler is unhappy, as awkward and uncertain as Jamie is. That he’s not bothering to put on a mask for him.

“How’s Olivia?” Jamie asks, going for casual.

Tyler freezes, his fork halfway to his mouth. 

“Can we not bring her up in a hotel room where I’m about to fuck you for money?” he asks, and Jamie hasn’t heard his voice so hard before, so cold. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, feeling gut-punched. “Sorry. I…”

Tyler closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, he’s smiling again. God, Tyler makes it so easy.

“No problem,” Tyler says, with a ‘don’t let it happen again,’ undertone in his voice. 

“What if we weren’t?” Jamie blurts out, and Tyler blinks at him. “What if we weren’t fucking for money?” 

Tyler frowns. “We are. That’s the deal. I don’t do freebies, Jamie, and I know you’re good for it.”

Jamie chews on his own lower lip. “I’m not asking you to. I just…”

Tyler’s smile gentles a little, “Hey. It’s kinda weird. I get that. Maybe it’s time for you to branch out a little, eh? Try some of the other talent? I’d be up for a double if you wanted. My friend Ian…”

Jamie is already shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not what I want.”

“What you want is a myth,” Tyler tells him, frank and honest and with no candy-coating at all. “You are a closeted celebrity,” he says, “And I am a prostitute who plans to do something else with his life when this gig is over, and this _cannot work._ ”

Jamie winces at the blow, the words hitting with the force of a body slamming into him at full speed. That’s what he’s wanting, isn’t it? And that’s why it can’t happen. He pushes back from the table. Tyler stands in a rush, eyes wide and jaw set. Jamie is forced to remember that someone put their fists on Tyler less than three weeks ago, left him bruised and not-working. He raises his empty hands palm-out and steps around Tyler.

“I just. I need to go.”

“Don’t.” The word comes from Tyler’s mouth and he looks surprised to have said it. “We can. We can eat and watch that movie. You can talk about whatever you want to.”

“I’m not trying to rip you off,” Jamie says. “I won’t ask for a refund if we don’t fuck.” If Tyler can use ugly words for what they’re doing here, so can he. 

“This is so fucking dumb,” Tyler complains, but he sits down again. They eat, even though Jamie can’t taste it. 

“You get to play this week?” Jamie says, searching for small-talk, not sure if hockey is too close to not-at-work-Tyler, or if he can get away with it.

Tyler smiles, and the tops of his shoulders relax some. “Yeah, couple times. There’s a pickup game Tuesdays at night I can get to if I wrap up early enough or start late enough, and one in the afternoon on Thursdays. There’s a Friday night that’s got some great players, but I hardly ever get to that one. With the time off, I played almost every night.”

“So, you any good?” 

Tyler smirks. “I played OHL for like—ten games. Thought I was gonna go all the way, but doesn’t every sixteen-year-old shit-head?” 

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s a short career for you to leave thinking you were good…”

Tyler pushes his plate back, empty enough that Jamie doesn’t think he’s fucked up by this line of talk.

“I took a hit,” Tyler says, like it’s old news. “Not even a game, just at practice. It wasn’t even that hard. The angle was funny or something. I cracked a vertebrae. Spent two weeks until the swelling around my spine went down wondering if I’d ever walk again. I just—lost my nerve after that.”

“Shit.” The idea of it, getting hurt like that. “But you’re okay now? Cleared to play?” 

Tyler snickers at him. “Yeah. I’m good to _play,_ baby.” 

Jamie thinks he’s getting better at this, reading when Tyler’s trying to rev his motor, when he’s ‘working.’ 

“You want to watch that werewolf show?” he asks, as Tyler sprawls himself on the bed, shoes off and knees apart, his slacks pulled tight over his crotch. The sell is not a subtle one. 

“Seriously?” Tyler asks. “You’re seriously not gonna hit this?” 

Jamie wants to stretch out beside him, to take off Tyler’s shirt and check every inch of him for damage, make sure that asshole didn’t leave a lingering hurt, a permanent scar. He doesn’t trust himself to end it there though, doesn’t trust Tyler. He puts his feet on the bed instead, sprawling back in the dining chair that is totally not as comfortable as he’s trying to make it look. 

“Seriously,” Jamie says, half bravado. He tosses the remote to Tyler. “Find your show. Catch me up.”

Tyler gives Jamie a long look, like he’s trying to figure him out. “Come over here. I promise not to jump you.”

Jamie considers, and finally moves over, stretching out on top of the covers, pillows behind his back. “Okay,” says Tyler, getting comfortable on Jamie’s shoulder while he flicks through the hotel’s cable, looking for his show. “It’s gonna sound really dumb when I explain it, but it’s a good show,” and anything that has to be prefaced with a statement like that is going to be interesting. 

They watch an episode of unibrow-werewolf and his band of older-than-Jamie high school students. Jamie thinks it is kind of a dumb show, but he likes the way Tyler’s face animates when he talks about it, how he seems younger. He resists the urge to kiss him during a commercial break.

The episode ends and Tyler twists to look at him, like he’s back to working on the puzzle that Jamie is to him. 

Jamie licks his lips, nervous, and Tyler watches his tongue.

Tyler moves slow, like he’s waiting for Jamie to stop him as he rolls over, pushes himself up, leans in to brush his lips over Jamie’s. He’s pressed in all along Jamie’s side, from ribs to knee, Tyler’s other leg sliding over his, tantalizingly close to his crotch.

“You don’t have to,” Jamie says when the kiss is over. His voice is small and his dick is hard. 

“Jamie,” Tyler says, soft. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready. If I didn’t want to.” 

His hand rests at Jamie’s waist, so heavy for such a light touch. 

“I want to do this with you,” Tyler says. “Make me feel good.”

He wants it so much, to be special, to be the one that erases the hurt. If he couldn’t take it off of Tyler’s skin, maybe he can help heal his heart. 

Tyler smiles, and Jamie knows he’s doing the right thing.


	12. The grand gesture

“So whatcha doing for Tyler’s birthday?”

It’s team breakfast, but nobody’s at Jamie and Jordie’s end of the table yet. 

Jamie shrugs. He’s seen Tyler three times now, since the meeting after Whole Foods. He tells himself it all comes out even, since he missed almost three weeks of seeing Tyler, first at Christmas and then with his “work-injury”. He tells himself he’s making up for lost time, and not chasing the high of being with him like an alcoholic chases the next drink.

“I figure he’s working,” Jamie says. He’s already booked for February third. He’ll come up with some kind of gift by then. He’s not sure if it should cost more than the appointment itself, or if something cheap and stupid would make Tyler smile more.

“Huh,” Jordie says.

Jamie frowns. “What.”

“Just thought you liked him. You gonna let him ‘work’ on his birthday when you could buy him the day off?”

Jamie stares down into his eggs. Jordie’s right. He’s a shitty boyfriend, or wanna-be boyfriend. He doesn’t want to fight with Tyler over it, but he’s hinted, every time since the canceled appointment, that it’s what he wants. 

“Shit, what should I do?”

Jordie shrugs. “Figure out what he likes to do, or things he wants, and give it to him.” The ‘dumbass’ is left unspoken but Jamie hears it loud and clear.

Jamie nods. Give it to him. 

Tyler’s birthday is one of the few chances he has to go big or go home. To show that he’s willing to work for this.

Jamie’s never been good at doing things halfway.

==========

 

Jamie asks the agency about the thirty-first, and is told Tyler is available for that night, so he books it. It’s a gamble. Taking control of Tyler’s birthday night, but Jamie figures if it was open, somebody would have taken it—Tyler had said he rarely catches a Friday free. Jamie sends the address to the agency, with a note to ask Tyler to check where it is and dress appropriately.

“So you guys are dating?” Jordie asks as Jamie is getting his own ensemble ready for the night, scraping the 14 off of a practice helmet he brought home from the Frisco ice-plex. He picked up a used full-face mask that he still needs to screw onto the helmet, and he’s running out of time. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, because he doesn’t. “He said. The first time I saw him after he was hurt, he said he wanted me to make him feel good. Like. Like it wasn’t just anybody.”

Jordie sighs. Jamie knows Jordie liked Tyler, when they met, or at least the ‘Tyler’ he was presented with. But he’s protective, and likes things black and white. 

“Is tonight a date?” 

Jamie’s lips twitch as he tries to keep a goofy smile off of them. “I hope so. In a low-key, okay with not getting laid kind of way.”

Jordie’s eyebrows call bullshit. 

“He said there’s a Friday game he likes but can’t get to much, and this is the only one in the area, so I’m meeting him there. I booked him for the night so he doesn’t have any schedule conflict. We’ll play, and while we’re on the ice, the caterers will come in and set up the cake and ice-cream thing for both teams.”

Jordie whistles his sarcastic appreciation.

“Romantic.” 

“It’s…” Jamie hesitates, unsure how much of Tyler to expose to his brother. “It kind of feels like he missed some of that stuff. Goofy parties and just having fun. He works a lot, and he’s got a kid. I don’t…I don’t think he’s had a lot that’s just about him for a while.”

“Jamie…” Jordie says on a sigh. “I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. But that kind of baggage…”

“Jordie.” Jamie cuts him off, not sharp, but unwilling to hear where that’s going. “I like him. When’s the last time I liked someone?”

“Just keep your head up, yeah?” Jordie says, and claps him on the shoulder. 

===================

Jamie gets to the rink in Allen early. He’s been there twice with the Stars, practicing when the Frisco StarCenter was otherwise engaged. He’s in and out of the locker room before anyone else gets there, out on the ice doing lazy laps, getting used to having a grid over his vision for the first time in years. When the timekeeper comes out to the box he skates over.

“Hey, I’m the one that called you. Tyler’s friend? Thanks for letting me set this up.” 

The guy looks him up and down, and the face shield isn’t much of a disguise but he’d hoped it would last more than ten seconds.

“You can’t be on his team.” He passes Jamie a white jersey, “RINGER 98” on the back. 

Jamie can’t say he’s not disappointed, because he’d wanted to see if they had the same chemistry on the ice as they do in bed. Tempering that disappointment is the knowledge that the person they’re balancing a professional NHL player with is Tyler, so he has to be good, at least the best player on this ice.

“That’s fine.”

“You know this is no-hitting, right?” 

Jamie smiles. “I’m just here to see my buddy have a good birthday,” he assures the man. 

He gives Jamie a ‘see that you do’ nod and goes off to do whatever it is he needs to do to get ready for the game to start.

A couple more players are filing out by then, a teenager and his dad, if Jamie reads their banter right. A few people are trickling up into the stands too, but less than are on the ice. 

Jamie is doing his stretches when Tyler comes out of the dressing room, sees him pause with one skate on the ice, looking around, and he raises his hand. 

Tyler skates twice around the rink and then pulls up at Jamie’s side, starts his own series of stretches. “You are such a shit,” he says, but he’s smiling, as wide as Jamie’s ever seen, and there is color high on his cheeks. He’s wearing a black-and-gold jersey, “RINGER 91” across his shoulders. 

“Hey,” Jamie says, and Tyler goes into a straddle stretch that he really envies. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I wanted you to have the night off on your birthday. I don’t want it to feel like work, like you have to see me.”

Tyler’s smile softens. “It’s fine. You’re still a shit.” There are enough skaters to be close to the full teams on the ice by then, and more than one has recognized Jamie. The ref blows a whistle and the teams split up by color and head to their benches. He watches Tyler go, skating smooth and strong. 

“Holy fuck, Jamie Benn,” one of Jamie’s team whispers when he gets to the bench, too loud for his friend who punches him in the shoulder.

“Hey,” Jamie says, trying for easy, comfortable. New people always make him feel awkward though. “I’m hoping I can hang out with you guys for the whole game, sign some stuff and take some pictures if you want after. If it gets crazy though, too many people showing up, I’m gonna have to go. Can you pass it on?”

The guys both nod, and Jamie catches a similar flurry of communication on Tyler’s side of the bench too, and maybe doing this as a surprise wasn’t the smartest idea. Tyler’s smile when their eyes meet makes it worth the risk.

As drop-ins, Jamie isn’t surprised that he and Tyler both sit out until all the regulars have gotten at least one shift on the ice. People that pay for the ‘season’ and show up for every game have priority over those there just for a night’s fun, even if one of them is a celebrity.

 

“Ninety-one, go!” he hears from the other side of the divider glass. It’s been a while between stoppages and the guys on the ice are flagging. He feels his own side’s coach tap him on the shoulder. 

“Ninety-eight, get out there!”

Tyler’s black and gold blurs past Jamie’s mask, and he has to hustle to catch up. Tyler’s on the puck first, intercepting a pass and sweeping around back towards Jamie’s team’s goal. Jamie grins and steals it away with a poke-check and then it’s on, Tyler so fucking quick, a game of keep-away that mostly ignores the other members of their teams. 

Tyler angles their contest towards the dad from earlier, using him more as obstacle than ally and makes Jamie choose to run him over or break off. Jamie would really rather not have bullying a rec-league added to his reputation, so he lets Tyler have this one, watches him slide the hard-won puck over to an awkward skater who whiffs his attempt at a one-timer. After all that work, he expects Tyler to be annoyed or at least disappointed that the kid missed and Jamie’s team has the puck now, but his grin is undiminished. Jamie tries to remember, what it felt like playing to play, without anybody watching or judging, without having to be good, prove himself. Even fooling around at practice, there have always been eyes on him. 

He liked Tyler before, the person Tyler pretended to be so Jamie would keep paying him for sex. This Tyler though, he’s incandescent. He glows with life and energy and joy. It takes everything Jamie has not to hug him when Tyler’s assist nets his team a point and all their guys celly over it. He likes this. He wants to have it to keep.

The teams are gathering up again for the face-off, and the captain of Jamie’s team nudges him. “You take this one,” he says, and Jamie sees Tyler coming up on the other side of the circle, looking determined. 

It’s fun, of a kind Jamie hasn’t had a ton of since becoming captain, maybe not for a long time. Working players of different skill levels into a game. He takes the puck from Tyler and runs up the ice with one of the younger guys, passing the puck back and forth.

Tyler’s team wins by a point, and nobody complains to Jamie that he should have been better, should have made more of a difference, even though he’s only on the board for two assists. He showers and changes and then has to pick his gear up off the ground because there’s no equipment guys here to do it for him. He gets out to the hall and most of both teams are already there around the table the catering company set up.

Tyler is laughing and covering his face as one of the guys from his side chirps him, cheeks pink and eyes squinted near-closed with mirth. One of the coaches produces a fireplace lighter and lights up the candles and the guys sing him an off-key happy-birthday. 

There are pictures then, everybody wanting one with Jamie, bringing up stuff for him to sign. He thinks there are a few more people here than were at the beginning of the game, but not a crowd, so he goes along with good grace. The few times someone raises a phone and Tyler’s in the shot he manages to turn away, hide his face, protecting Jamie even on his birthday by keeping pictures of them together from existing. 

Everybody eats, and fuck his meal plan, for at least one night. There’s a hideously sweet chocolate cake and three flavors of ice cream and no booze. He made sure the caterers sent a little pink cake in a box, bigger than a cupcake but not by much, for Tyler to bring home to his daughter. Jamie may not have dated much, but Jordie is on the ball with shit like that. 

After, Jamie tells everybody who’s still sticking around goodbye and walks out with Tyler. 

“Hey,” he says, and Tyler turns to smile at him, looking good enough to kiss. Jamie doesn’t. 

“I know you’re off the clock, but I wondered if you’d want to go out for a drink?” 

Tyler considers it for long enough that Jamie starts to wonder why, if it was his misstep or Tyler’s crumbling reluctance that makes it take so long. “We’re too far out to leave one of our cars and come back for it,” he says at last, and that’s not a no. 

“We could head somewhere closer to home,” Jamie offers, “Meet up there, take a cab after, if we need to.”

“I don’t want to go to a hotel room with you,” Tyler says, and Jamie doesn’t really know what that means. Tyler quirks a little smile, “And I think you’ve signed enough autographs for one day.” 

“So no drink?” Jamie asks, to make sure they’re on the same page.

“Got beer at your place?” Tyler counters, and Jamie feels like his heart kicks an extra beat.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do. Jordie might be there, but…” 

“I’ll need your address again,” Tyler cuts in. “I didn’t save it in my phone.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jamie gives it to him again, as they stand out in the parking lot in the cold. 

“I’ll head that way,” Tyler says, “I need to stop for gas though.”

Jamie nods. “No problem. It’ll give me a minute to clean up.” He pushes his freezing hands down into his jeans pockets. He needs to go, but it is hard to be the first to turn away, like Tyler will disappear if he doesn’t watch him. 

“See you when I get there then,” Tyler finally says and is the one to walk away, over to a nondescript little silver car among all the other silver cars. Jamie watches until he’s pulled out of his parking spot and headed to the road, and then he goes to his truck, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Jordie and warn him as he walks.

===========

Tyler sits in his car, watching the taillights of Jamie’s truck join the others heading out of the parking lot. The heater is slow to warm up, and he huddles in his jacket, his phone in his hands as the engine runs.

The game, the party, the way Jamie set all of this up, the risks he took doing it, it’s all extravagant. Over-the-top stupid-romantic, and Tyler doesn’t think anybody has ever done something like this for him before. 

Jamie wants him. Wants. More than to fuck him, Tyler thinks. Maybe. Maybe Jamie doesn’t know either, maybe he’s lost in his fantasy of who he thinks Tyler is, what the most they can be for each other is. 

But maybe. Maybe he sees clearer than Tyler thinks he does. 

Maybe there’s a chance.

He closes his eyes, presses the phone to the forehead until it leaves a dent in his skin. 

This is stupid. So stupid. It can’t work. 

But isn’t it supposed to be the dream? Find someone who’s rich and decent and handsome to Pretty Woman him to bigger and better things? 

It felt so good, Jamie’s ridiculous gesture. Someone caring about his happiness. The way Jamie smiled at him when they were on the ice together. 

He hasn’t celebrated his own birthday since Livvie was born. Hasn’t been first in anybody’s plan for longer than that. 

He doesn’t have to be _in love_ to start dating someone, right? To see where it goes. To try to grab some happiness for himself. 

The parking lot is empty when he turns on his phone and makes the call.


	13. A decision is made

Jordie is the best brother ever, as evidenced by the quick cleanup he did after Jamie called him, and the order he’d placed from the Thai restaurant down the road. 

“Should have told me you guys might be coming back here, Jamie, I could have gone shopping, had something better for dinner than take-out,” he complains, and Jamie thinks he’s almost as pleased by the idea of Tyler coming back to their place as Jamie is. 

It takes Tyler thirty minutes more to get to their place than it took Jamie, and he’s just starting to wonder if Tyler changed his mind, if Tyler has ditched him, when there’s a knock at their door. 

Tyler isn’t smiling when Jamie lets him in. He looks over to where Jordie is futzing with the Thai food and back to Jamie. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute. Alone?”

Jamie frowns. “Yeah, sure.” He leads the way on through the apartment back to his room, really the only private area they’ve got. He sits on the bed, leaving the chair for Tyler. Tyler stands by the door, hands in his pockets.

“I called the agency on the way here,” Tyler says, and Jamie wishes there was anything in his demeanor he could latch onto for an idea if this was good or bad news.

“Okay?” 

Tyler wouldn’t have come all this way to tell Jamie he was going to a job tonight instead of hanging out. He can’t think what else it could mean.

“I blacklisted you,” Tyler says in a rush, like he feels guilty about it, like he’s done something wrong. “Just for me. I made sure they knew it wasn’t something you’d done wrong. The others will still…”

“I don’t understand,” Jamie says, itching to reach for Tyler, to touch him. 

“I can’t…” Tyler starts, frowns, tries again. “You want to like—try the dating thing, right?” 

Hope blooms warm and heavy in Jamie’s chest. 

“Yeah. That’s what I want.”

Tyler nods, still not meeting Jamie’s eyes. “So if. If it’s like a dating thing, I can’t be ass-on-call for you. It would fuck with my head and I can’t afford that.” He takes a shuddering breath. “This—when I think about it too much it is so fucking stupid, Jamie.”

Jamie gives in to the urge, stands slowly and walks to Tyler, stands close enough to touch but isn’t sure where to put his hands. 

“Talk to me,” he asks, and Tyler shakes his head. Not denying Jamie’s request, more at a loss for where to begin. 

“You need to talk to your agent. The NDA. I had them read the important parts over the phone to me, and it looks like it’ll still protect you, even when we meet outside of the agency.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Not that he thinks Tyler will out him to the tabloids, but the cost to his career, he can’t even calculate it. 

“Livvie comes first, always,” Tyler says, and Jamie realizes they’ve reached the ground-rules phase of the discussion. 

“Of course,” he says. She’s like three years old. How much of Tyler’s time can she take up?

“Sometimes that’ll mean work comes first.” 

Jamie puts his hands on Tyler’s waist, touches their foreheads together. “I’m not going to say I like it,” he sighs, “But it is what it is, and I understand.” Later, he thinks, sometime later, they can pick it apart together, figure out why Tyler is in this, why he stays when he could be so much more. They can explore his options. For now though, he’s not going to give him an easy reason to walk away before it’s even started.

“So we’re doing this?” Tyler asks, “Playing our cards and hoping for the best?” and Jamie smiles. 

“Yeah.” He wants to kiss Tyler like he used to, but it’s so much more complex now. Tyler solves it for him, brushing their lips together soft and almost shy. Jamie just stands there with him until the clunking of the ice dispenser in the kitchen reminds him that Jordie is still waiting on them with food. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and Tyler smiles again. 

“After that game? Are you kidding, yes.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, and hopes it’s a long damn time before they have to talk like this again. 

Jordie looks up as they come out of Jamie’s room, checking Jamie first, making eye contact like he’s looking for blood or bruises. Jamie gives him a half-smile and a little shrug. Jordie’s careful glance turns to Tyler and he seems to relax after making sure everyone is well and accounted for.

“What’d you order us?” Jamie asks, and Jordie gestures to the food, naming the ingredients of the curries, the stuffed turkey wings, the big container of Pad Thai. 

“I wasn’t sure how hot Tyler liked it, so I got a spread and we can have the leftovers after practice tomorrow.”

“Looks awesome,” Tyler says, and takes a seat. He looks less confident than he had last time he was in their kitchen, without the job, the persona, to shield him. 

“So how was the game,” Jordie asks, and he’s so much better at this than Jamie. 

Tyler quirks a grin and shovels food out of the to-go boxes and onto his plate. “Awesome. Half my team was skating into the boards at the thought of being on the ice with Jamie Benn, but they got over it.”

Jamie snorts. “At least my team was starstruck and dumb too. It evened out.”

“It was fun,” Tyler says like he’s agreeing with Jamie, and maybe he is. It would have been a shitty night if one team had run the other over. 

“That was smooth, your breakaway,” Jamie says, and Tyler shrugs. 

“Showy. You weren’t even on the ice.”

Jamie gives that an acknowledging tip of his head. Nobody else out there could touch Tyler. There hadn’t been muc reason for him to slip through the defense like that.

Jordie raises an eyebrow. “How good is this guy?” he asks, thumb pointing at Tyler.

Jamie leans back in his chair, honestly considering. 

“I’m not sure I want to be here for this,” Tyler says, and makes like he’s going to get up, but there’s a glint in his eyes, a quirk of his lips that makes it a joke. 

“Sit down and let me brag on you,” Jamie scolds and he sits, hiding his grin behind his hand.

“Allen would be lucky to have him,” Jamie decides, and Tyler shakes his head like Jamie is bullshitting. “Off the street, right now, he could do well at an AHL training camp.” He tries to say it like a fact, not like something he’d love to see, love Tyler to do.

“Until the first time a hit came my way,” Tyler objects. “Can’t play with the big boys if you’re gun-shy.” It sounds like something he’s been told so many times he believes it.

Jamie shrugs. Jordie looks between them. 

“I got hurt,” Tyler explains for his benefit. “And I never got over it.” 

Jordie looks less than convinced. “You’ve got hockey talent and you’re…bartending when you could be playing professionally?”

Jamie notices Jordie’s pause, prays it’s only because they’re brothers and have lived in each others’ pockets their whole lives.

Tyler shrugs, deceptively easy. “Maybe if I’d gotten my shit together before Livvie came along…” He trails off, and Jamie wouldn’t push but Jordie is happy to follow the conversation wherever Tyler might let it go.

“She live with you full-time?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, and a small honest smile crosses his lips, quickly fades again. “Her mom’s not in the picture. Livvie’s grandparents on that side, they’ve got two weekends a month with her.”

“Got any pictures?” Jamie asks before Jordie can continue the interrogation. 

And that lights Tyler up, that wary smile going full-on proud-papa, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He has a lot of pictures. Jordie looks at the phone, but Jamie mostly watches Tyler, the way each one he stops on makes his face change, mirth to tenderness to embarrassment to an affectionate kind of grumpiness. 

When Tyler has scrolled through, back to the beginning of his Livvie file, photos of a squalling red baby, tiny and wrinkled, (“Hard to believe she started out so small,” Tyler says,) he takes a breath like he’s putting off a yawn. Stretches his back from where he’s been leaned over so both Jamie and Jordie could see his phone.

“Shit, what time is it?” He glances at his phone and sighs.

“I gotta run by Wal-Mart, and those pads are stinking up my car. 

“Good seein’ you,” Jordie says, pats Tyler’s shoulder as he stands up and heads for the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Walk me to the door?” 

Like Jamie might say no.

“Yeah. Of course.” He gets up and gives Tyler a hand. Tyler leads the way, puts his back to the door when they get there. Draws Jamie in against him. 

It feels good, even knowing it’s not going anywhere, the feel of Tyler’s body against his. Tyler tips his chin up, glances to Jamie’s lips. That’s a play even Jamie can read, and he leans in, kisses Tyler. If he wants to come tonight, he’ll have to take care of it himself, but every second of kissing Tyler is fuel for that fire. 

“I really do have to go,” Tyler says, and Jamie makes himself step back. 

“Have a good night.” It seems inadequate. “Thanks for the chance. For. You know.”

Tyler shakes his head, but he’s smiling so Jamie thinks that’s okay.


	14. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wjgravity for the beta-read on chapters 13-16

**Tyler:**  
_No work tonight_  
 _Playing in Richardson until 9_  
 _Meet up after?_

Jamie stares down at his phone.

“Your face’ll stick like that,” Jordie warns him.

Jamie fights down the grin.

**Jamie:**  
_Yeah great_  
 _Where?_

He could offer to get a hotel room, but he’s pretty sure that Tyler would take it wrong.

**Tyler:**  
_Yours?_

**Jamie:**  
_Sure_  
 _See you there_

“Too late,” Jordie says. “It’ll be like that forever.”

  
Jamie doesn’t think it sounds like a hardship, being this happy for a long long time.

===========

Tyler’s early text means that Jordie gets it in his head to cook, so they head to the grocery store after practice.

“You still don’t know what he likes to eat, do you?” Jordie asks.

Jamie shrugs. “I think he was honest about liking anything that doesn’t have jalapenos in it.”

Jordie sighs and looks to the ceiling for strength.

“He’ll eat ham?”

“I guess so.”

“Hm, okay, ham, mac and cheese, baked potato?”

Jamie puts his face in his hand. “Please, please, can we have KD instead of from scratch?”

“It means more if it’s made by hand.”

“It means more if he can eat it without barfing,” Jamie counters. The last time it had crunchy bits. Jamie nearly lost another tooth.

Jamie:  
Might want to grab a burger on the way over  
Jordie’ s cooking

=============

“I’m starving!” are Tyler’s first words as Jamie lets him in the door. He smiles up at Jamie, leans in to peck a kiss on his lips and then bends over to take his shoes off. His hair is wet, despite the cold. The smell of shower-room shampoo wafts from his skin.

It really shouldn’t get Jamie as hard as it does.

“I got ham, mac and cheese and potatoes in the oven,” Jordie calls over.

“Smells great.”

Jamie recognizes this exuberance. “You win tonight?”

Tyler bumps his shoulder. “These two assholes came in on the other team. Friend of a friend of one of them. They totally outclassed most of the other players. Came in looking to own the ice.”

“And?” Jamie wants to hear the score.

“And I didn’t let them. Felt good, playing all out.”

Jamie remembers how Tyler had to hold back with everyone but him on his birthday.

“Wish I had video of that,” Jamie says. He goes to the kitchen and Tyler follows. Jamie pops the tops off of a trio of beers, puts one down by Jordie, passes one for Tyler and keeps the last for himself.

Jordie’s just pulling the food out of the oven. The ham is a little crunchy on top, the potatoes witheredwhithered and wrinkled, the mac and cheese a little too…liquidy. He puts away the mitts and gets plates down, carving up the ham and serving them there at the stove.

Tyler slips in for a strip of meat straight from the pan, hissing and juggling it when he realizes how freaking hot it is.

“We should like, make a plan of this,” Jordie says.

“Huh?” Tyler looks between the two like Jamie has a clue what Jordie means.

“Like a home-cooked dinner night. You cook at all, Tyler?”

Tyler shrugs. “I can make grilled cheese and open a can of soup. I’m a pro at heating frozen chicken nuggets though.”

Jordie makes a face.

Jamie thinks some days he’d take a can of soup over whatever it is Jordie made.

“You guys should come over,” Jordie says. “You and Livvie maybe? A nice sit-down meal?”

Tyler’s fork goes still at the suggestion, his smile fades a few degrees.

“When you’re ready,” Jamie says. “If you want to.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tyler says, but it sounds a lot like ‘no.’

“Come on,” Jordie says, grabbing his plate and beer and heading to the table. “We’re not gonna eat standing around the stove like savages.”

Tyler follows, Jamie behind him.

“I dunno,” Tyler says. “Trying to get a bite while feeding a baby, I learned how to take it however I could get it. I can be pretty uncivilized.”

That’s better. More relaxed.

The ham is okay when Jamie cuts the crust off. Potatoes are inedible in his opinion, though Tyler slathers them in butter and sour cream and eats it anyway. The mac and cheese is runny enough that it spreads over his plate and has to be eaten with a spoon, but it’s the best tasting thing on the table.

Later, after Tyler helps load the dishwasher and Jordie has decided to stop third-wheeling it, Tyler leads Jamie back to his bedroom. Unfastens Jamie’s jeans.

“Is this okay?” Tyler asks after he kisses him.

“Yeah,” Jamie breathes. “Oh god yes.”

Tyler didn’t bring his work bag, but he pulls an Altoids tin out of his back pocket, and he’s got enough. A couple condoms and a single-use pack of lube.

Tyler sticks his hand down Jamie’s pants. Strokes him through his underwear.

“Can I ride you?”

“Whatever you want,” Jamie promises. He can’t think of much that he thinks Tyler would want to do with him that he’d object to. Just seeing what Tyler is into. How he really likes it. It’s like the difference between having sex with a condom on, or coming with his dick rubbing Tyler’s abs or the outside of his thigh. He’d rather have Tyler jerk him off bare than fuck him through latex.

Tyler doesn’t seem to mind the condom, and Jamie tries to make it as good as he knows how, running his hands over Tyler’s body, wrapping his hand around Tyler’s dick and jerking him off when he’s close.

Tyler comes with his eyes open, staring into Jamie’s until the orgasm is over, even as he twitches through the aftershocks, through Jamie’s dick moving inside of him as he crests the wave himself.

Tyler sags against Jamie’s sweaty chest, reaches behind and holds the condom against Jamie’s dick as he shifts off of it.

A shiver passes through Tyler’s body but they’re on top of the blankets. Jamie gets what corner he can over Tyler’s body.

“You okay?” he asks, and Tyler breathes against his neck. Groans and rolls over, flopping onto the bed. He’s smiling though. Jamie lets him recover, uses the time to smear Tyler’s come across his own stomach. It’ll be sticky and gross soon, but he likes it in that moment.

Tyler finally gets himself back to himself, sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Even his back is beautiful, all lean muscle and smooth skin, unmarked except for a few dark freckles. Jamie trails his damp fingers along Tyler’s lower back. Tyler reaches back and pats his shoulder and then gets up and walks gloriously naked to the bathroom. He comes out with a washcloth, damp and warm. Hits the light switch on his way back to bed.

Jamie’s a little sorry to see it gone when Tyler wipes the jizz off his abs. He must have taken care of himself in there, because he tosses the cloth far enough that it’s on the tile instead of the carpet and then he curls in against Jamie’s side. He does a better job of getting some covers over them than Jamie did.

“I can stay until you fall asleep,” Tyler says, and Jamie figures for him, the night is still young. He wakes later as Tyler is leaving. Jamie makes a whiney sound and Tyler leans in, kisses him like a tease, like a promise. And then Tyler leaves him. Jamie makes himself pretend Tyler’s just going to the gym, or late-night grocery shopping.

He checks his phone for messages before he goes back to sleep. It’s two hours, almost to the minute, since Tyler knocked on his door.

 

============

The thing is, Jordie knows he’s a shitty chef. He’s not sure exactly why, probably an impatience with recipes and forgetting to check stuff often enough. Whatever his problem is, he’s just as aware of the results as Jamie is. He knows the macaroni is soup and the baked potatoes are so overdone they’re tough.

Jordie eats it without a word just as a fuck-you to Jamie.

He’s not sure why Tyler’s eating it. He doesn’t even seem to notice, scraping crusty lumps of potato off of the inside of the skin, covering them with sour cream and butter and eating them.

Hockey-player hunger only goes so far to explain it.

Later, as Jamie and Tyler are making trips to the kitchen with the dirty plates and Jordie is watching because he cooked, he’s done his part, Tyler gives Jordie a nudge and a smile.

“Thanks for cooking,” he says, like it’s not just polite words. If he’d added some complement, Jordie wouldn’t have believed it, but he just smiles and goes to join Jamie at the dishwasher.

Tyler is definitely too attractive for his brother.

Jordie is starting to wonder if he’s too nice, too.


	15. Quality time

Tyler tosses Jamie a washcloth and flops down on the bed beside him, stretches nude and beautiful while Jamie cleans himself up.

“So uh, I have Tuesday between practice and six pm free,” Jamie says. “I was thinking. Maybe we could do something with Livvie. Like LegoLand or the aquarium that’s next to it.”

Actually it was Jordie who’d been thinking. Jordie who said he was running the risk of Tyler thinking he was only in this for the sex if he didn’t schedule some G-rated time. 

Tyler groans and puts his arm over his face. Maybe asking right after sex wasn’t the best idea, but he needed to say it when he thought about it or he’d forget.

“I know she’s a big part of your life. I’d like to actually meet her. Apologize for writing on her sweater.”

That gets a smile and Jamie’s stomach flutters. 

“Tuesday,” Tyler repeats. “Like one o’clock? Meet us at LegoLand?”

“It’s a date.”

=============

It’s a nightmare. Jamie has seen kids. Helping out with kid’s clinics on the ice or meeting small fans everywhere or going to hospitals. 

He’s never been in the deep end before though. There are about five hundred kids here, minimum, and every one of them seems to be screaming or yelling over the music. 

“I wanna play on that!” Livvie says, pointing at the tunnels and ladders structure in the middle of it all. Except she’s only three, so “Iwanna pway on dat” is more how it sounds.

Tyler’s carrying her on his hip, and she’s kind of clinging to his shirt. It’s scary in here. Jamie sympathizes. 

Tyler slips her shoes off and into a cubby rack. “You ready?” he asks. “Or you wanna watch for a minute?”

Livvie nods under his chin and he stands in the maelstrom of miniature humans, braving the storm as she looks at the kids already inside. Some are building a pile out of huge foam legos and she starts to perk up. Her little mouth drops open when a huge tower falls on one kid, and the kid bursts out of the pile with a roar.

Jamie messes with the ball cap on his head, but nobody is looking at him. 

“You ready now?” 

It’s weird, to hear Tyler using that voice, so soft. It’s not at all a bedroom voice, but if Jamie was sick or something and Tyler was waking him up to drink some soup, Jamie thinks he might hear it. That he’d like to hear it.

“I wanna go on that thing” Livvie says, and squirms and Tyler lets her down. She runs to the gate and the attendant lets her in. 

Tyler nods Jamie over to a wall. All the benches are full of parents or stacks of jackets so they find an out-of-the-way place where they can lean and see Livvie. 

“Anything like what you expected?” Tyler asks. 

Livvie had known his name and accepted his apology for the shirt. She calls him JamieBenn like his name is one word and she talks to him a lot. He can’t quite keep up, between her soft consonants and the mercurial mind of a three year old, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He’s not sure how to interact with her. She’s not a baby that’ll blow spit-bubbles for him when he makes funny faces or grip onto his finger. She’s not old enough to talk any kind of hockey with. 

“Kind of loud,” Jamie says.

Tyler snorts. “You should see it when it’s busy.”

The very idea makes Jamie’s eardrumsear drums ache. 

==========

Livvie screams, her head thrown back, Tyler frowning as he picks her up.

“Okay, I think that’s a day,” he says.

“I wanna stay!” she howls. Jamie winces. 

“I know, baby,” Tyler soothes. “But it’s nap time and I know you’re tired.”

He nods Jamie towards the turnstile at the exit. He feels like everybody is looking at them. Jamie’s cheeks flame. He doesn’t know if they’re staring because they think it’s shitty parenting or if they think Jamie and Tyler kidnapping somebody’s child. He can’t remember being more embarrassed.

Livvie stops struggling against Tyler carrying her when they get out into the parking lot. Tyler drapes her jacket around her back and leans her in against his chest. Jamie nearly walks into him when Tyler misses a step.

“Gosh-dang it,” Tyler says, and Jamie snorts at the kid-safe swear. Tyler seems genuinely bothered though, so he sobers up quick.

“I forgot her shoes. They’re in the flipping cubby.”

Jamie looks behind them, at the line to get in, dozens of hyper kids forced to stand in one place. Some toddler is screaming and throwing theirself on the tiles. 

“I’ll buy her some new ones,” Jamie promises. 

The corner of Tyler’s lips tic. It’s not a smile.

“No, that’s okay.” He shakes his head. “Not worth going back for now.”

Jamie follows Tyler through the lot to his car. Livvie is limp on his shoulder now, her eyes barely open.

“Is this like—is she okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says as he balances Livvie with one hand and digs in his pocket for his keys with the other. “Just over-stimulated and tired.”

Jamie wants to offer to help, but he’s not sure about holding a cranky child, and the parking lot is not the place for him to put his hand down Tyler’s pocket.

Tyler finds the key eventually, uses the clicker to beep open his silver hatchback. 

“Want to come back to my place? She could nap on the couch, or on my bed and we’ll hang out on the couch.” 

Tyler eases Livvie into her seat, soothes her down when she starts to fuss.

“Nah, thanks, but I don’t want her to wake up all alone in a strange place, and there’s not much we could do in the room she’s in that wouldn’t wake her up.”

Jamie’s not sure if that’s a thing, or if Tyler’s blowing him off. 

Tyler straightens and closes Livvie’s door, glances around. There are people in the parking lot. He tips his head just a little, like Jamie could kiss him if he dared.

He doesn’t.

“I’m glad we got to do this,” Jamie lies. “I hope she had fun.” The second part at least is the truth.

=========

“Fuck, look at you,” Tyler says from behind Jamie, the words punctuated by a huff of exertion.

Jamie pants under Tyler’s hand on his back, pushing his upper body down against the bed. His other hand is on Jamie’s hip, guiding him where Tyler wants him, ass in the air for Tyler to fuck into. 

“Oh fuck,” Tyler gasps. Goes deep into Jamie and holds it there, strain in his voice as he gasps out how good Jamie feels. He gives Jamie the reach around, his palm slick with spit. His hands are fumbling at first and then more coordinated. Long, sliding, strokes just like Jamie likes best. 

Jamie shudders through his orgasm and flattens on the bed, Tyler plastered against his back. He likes the weight of Tyler, solid on top of him. Tyler kisses the back of his neck and pulls out. Jamie winces, sensitized in the best ways but still. Tyler slides down until his head rests between Jamie’s shoulder-blades.

The bedroom is warm enough that they’re in no rush. Jamie’s proud of his forethought in turning up the thermostat, even if Jordie’ll grump about the heat later.

“Wanna go out to eat?” Jamie slurs into the sheets. 

“Not yet,” Tyler says, and Jamie thinks he’d lay here another hour if it meant Tyler laying on top of him. He sighs, feeling so good, so deeply content. He’d thought they’d kind of take a step back with the sex like they were dating for the first time, but Tyler keeps starting stuff and Jamie doesn’t see a reason to say no to something they both want.

The phone on the nightstand, Jamie’s, rings and shakes him out of the lazy doze he’d fallen into. He reaches and looks to see who it is. Eakin. He can’t think of a reason for him to call, which means he probably needs to answer it. 

“Yeah?” 

Tyler pushes off of his back and Jamie rolls over. Watches Tyler’s ass as he heads for the bathroom. 

“Hey cap. I uh. I. Holly left.”

Ugh, fuck his life.

“Like left-left?”

“Yeah.” Cody’s voice sounds thick. 

“You want company? I can be there in thirty with beer.”

“If uh, if you’re not busy.”

Tyler hasn’t come out of the bathroom, so Jamie doesn’t think he’ll want to go again.

“Yeah, be there in a bit.”

======

Tyler closes the bathroom door behind him, listening to Jamie talk to whoever called. 

Being half-hard makes it a trick to get the condom off—it doesn’t want to roll off, but it doesn’t want to slide without come to lubricate it. He pulls it off though, wraps it in toilet paper and stuffs it in the trash. Not that he thinks Jamie would go looking for it or anything, but if it fell out he might notice that it was empty.

It’s not that he doesn’t think Jamie is attractive. He’s handsome enough, and the way he plays is a turn-on too. Just there’s only so many times Tyler can come in a day and he’s already gone twice, once with a nooner and once before he got to Jamie’s place. It had taken a good imagination to get him hard enough to fuck—he knew his chances of a third orgasm in a day were pretty slim. 

Jamie taps on the door. His mama raised him right.

“Hey, one of my guys is having an issue. I have to go make sure he’s gonna be in shape to play tomorrow.”

Tyler opens the door a few inches, flashing some skin. Jamie’s dressed on the other side.

Jamie’s gaze makes a journey down Tyler’s body and back up again. He licks his lips.

“I uh, gotta go,” he tries again. 

“Yeah, okay.” Tyler doesn’t make it any easier, standing there in the doorway. 

“You can uh, shower here if you want, or hang out and watch your show. Whatever. I don’t know how late I’ll be though.”

Tyler isn’t used to people leaving and then coming back. He wouldn’t have expected Jamie to return anytime soon. 

“Good luck with the issue.”

Jamie leans in, gives him a quick kiss. Then he leaves.

Tyler closes the door again, leans his head against it. He’d kind of thought after they fucked that they would shower together. He had hoped Jamie would touch him, maybe rub the sore muscles in his back from where the last game got a little physical (his own teammate checked him into the glass. Playing with amateurs is hazardous to his health).

Instead, he’s left to shower by himself, letting the stream of water do a half-assed job of it. He gets dressed again, fastens the shiny watch around his wrist as he checks himself in the mirror. 

He looks like he’s working. He looks at himself and tries to see a boyfriend, to see half of a relationship. He shouldn’t have worn work clothes here. Everything in his closet that looks hot enough to see his… _date_ in is work clothes of some kind. Maybe he should splurge and buy a few changes of clothes to wear here, something just for Jamie. 

He shakes his head and turns off the bathroom light. Has to turn it back on to pick the towels off the floor and put them in the hamper. It’s not a hotel. He’s not working. 

A long slow breath balances him again. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and puts it in his pocket. 

The tv is on when he gets to the living room. Jordie has the same swooped-back mullet thing going on with his hair that Jamie does. Not quite as much gel and it shows a dark reddish brown in the light coming in from the dining room. 

“Hey,” Tyler says, closing Jamie’s door. 

He’s not expecting Jordie to startle and look over his shoulder at Tyler like that.

“He said I could hang,” Tyler says. He’s a boyfriend. People don’t throw their brother’s boyfriend out of their apartment when the fucking is over. He doubts Jordie would kick him out even if Tyler was working and Jordie knew it.

“Oh, hey, no problem,” Jordie says. He turns back to the tv, his shoulders tenser than they were. “Stay as long as you like. I just didn’t know you were still here. Thought I heard you guys leave.”

Tyler comes over, checks out what Jordie is watching. A blond woman is using a pry-bar to take the fake wood paneling off of a wall, exposing the delicate spindles of a banister underneath. 

“Jamie left. One of his guys had a problem.” 

The tv reflects blue off of the whites of Jordie’s eyes as he rolls them. 

“Wanna sit, have a beer?” He doesn’t sound like it’s Tyler he’s exasperated by. He watches the show but his face doesn’t change when the woman discovers the pocket doors. He can’t be _that_ into it. He doesn’t look one hundred percent comfortable. Tyler’s not sure why. 

“About that thing you were talking about at dinner last time,” he starts. Jordie nods along.

“Maybe we could do that? But Livvie. That kid is a picky eater. I’ll bring her nuggets, I just don’t want her to hurt your feelings if that’s all she wants to eat. She doesn’t really understand manners yet.”

Jordie turns to look at him. “I appreciate the warning. It’s fine. It’s fine. I can cook the nuggets, or you can since they’re your specialty.”

Tyler nods. “Okay, cool. Let me know when.”

“I will.”

Tyler nods again. He feels like a bobble-head. “Have a nice night.” 

“You too.”

Tyler has his phone out as the door closes behind him. There’s another five hours before he needs to be home to get Livvie. He goes ahead and opens those slots on the agency’s scheduler.


	16. The worst laid plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to wjgravity for the beta on ch 13-16

“Got Valentines plans?” Jordie asks as they drive home from practice.

Jamie knows he’s dense, but he’s not _that_ dense. “I’m working on it.”

So far he has food and sex on his list. Flowers, would Tyler like flowers? Is that a girl-only-thing or something that guys could do? Would Jamie piss him off by treating Tyler like the woman in the relationship?

“I feel like I should buy something shiny.”

He can feel Jordie’s judgmental stare like a weight on his shoulders.

“What.”

“Shiny. Like a ring?”

“What? No. Like. A watch. Or.” Earrings probably wouldn’t be a good choice. Maybe like a chain bracelet?

“Maybe you should call mom.”

It’s a solid suggestion, but Jamie hasn’t even mentioned that there _is_ a Tyler in Jamie’s life. He’s not gonna bring it up as he’s asking for help.

“Or you could ask Tyler what he wants.”

“That’d spoil the romance of it. What’s the point?”

Jordie takes a deep breath. “Good luck with that.”

 _You’re gonna need it_ is unspoken but it hangs in the air.

==========

 **Jamie:**  
_You got plans for the 14 yet?_  
 _Valentines_

 **Tyler:**  
_Yeah :(_  
 _Not sure when we’ll finish_

Jamie frowns down at his phone. The team is waiting for their bus to show up to take them to the hotel, but Jamie doesn’t feel like he wants to wait.

“Lemme know if they get here,” Jamie says to Jordie, nodding to the corner he’ll be around.

Jordie frowns. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I just.” He wags his phone in the air as an explanation.

Jordie nods and Jamie walks.

Tyler picks up on the third ring.

“Hey. What’s up?” he asks, like he didn’t just turn down his boyfriend’s offer of a romantic night.

“I was uh, that thing on Valentines. I was wondering if you could cancel.”

“I said I’d be there,” Tyler says, his voice soft.

“You’ve canceled before.”

“I canceled when I couldn’t work.” The softness is gone, his words short, clipped.

Shit, Jamie didn’t want to piss him off.

“I just. I want to spend time with you.”

“I want to spend time with you too, Jamie, but this has been set up for nearly a month.”

“Who wants to spend Valentines with a prostitute,” Jamie grumps.

“Besides you?”

“I want to spend it with my boyfriend, who _is_ a prostitute,” Jamie hisses, aware that one of the guys could come around the corner at any minute.

It’s different, because Jamie’s not paying him.

A voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Jordie says that if Tyler hadn’t taken his offer to date? Jamie would be happy to pay Tyler to be with him for Valentine’s.

“A couple wanted Ian and me for a double. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Tyler’s voice is a hiss too, and Jamie wonders who he’s hiding from.

“Who the fuck is Ian?”

Tyler hangs up on him.

“Jamie, bus is here.” Jordie comes around the corner.

Jamie grinds his teeth. Punching the wall will do no good at all. It takes everything he’s got to not do it anyway.

===========

 

Jamie’s temper cools on the way to the hotel, and by the time he’s alone in his room, a loop of “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” is running through his head. He’d told Tyler it was okay that he was working, and the first time it came up he was a jealous asshole.

If this appointment had been set up for almost a month, it must have been scheduled right after Tyler came back to work after he got hurt. It predates the time that Jamie was anything but a client.

 **Jamie:**  
_I’m sorry  
Shit I’m so sorry_

He sends the text before he lets himself talk himself out of it.

The phone rings and Jamie juggles to keep from dropping it.

Caller ID has Tyler’s name on it and Jamie’s heart starts beating double-time.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says as soon as Jamie accepts the call. He sounds tense, rushed. “I lost my temper and I’m sorry. I didn’t. I don’t want to rub your face in it, but you kept…”

“I know,” Jamie cuts in. “I know. I shouldn’t have pushed. Shouldn’t have asked things I didn’t want to know the answer to.”

They sit there, listening to each other breathe.

 _I love you,_ Jamie wants to say, but for the fear Tyler wouldn’t say it back.

“You’re uh, you’re in town the eighteenth and nineteenth,” Tyler says. “We could. If you wanted to do something those days, I’m free so far and I could block off the time.”

Jamie runs through his schedule in his head. “Yeah. Yeah, the eighteenth would work.”

“Okay,” Tyler says like it’s a relief. “Okay, yeah, I’ll keep it open for us to do something.”

“Okay,” Jamie echoes. Tries to tell himself this isn’t so bad. He’s got longer to plan something worthwhile, and anything he wants to do will be less crowded. Not being Valentines, it’ll look less like a date if somebody recognizes him.

“I’ll uh, let you get to bed.”

“Night, Tyler.”

“Night, Jamie.”

=========

 

“Ready?” Ian asks, hand poised to knock on the door to the Executive Suite. Tyler’s been to the Rosewood a few times before, but not as often as other hotels. Not that it’s the most expensive—there are like three whole hotels in Dallas that cost more per night. It’s just a little bit fussy for most of his clients. It’s like the Architecture Digest version of his grandma’s house. It’s the only hotel Tyler’s been in that has that many patterns going on—all kinds of geometric shapes on the carpet, the pillows, the chaise lounges.

Tyler puts on a smile that’s only a little bit faked. He likes his job, but doubles with Ian are usually the most enjoyment he has when he’s working. Ian is easy to read, easy to move with. When he’s there, Tyler can relax a little more than he usually does. He knows Ian won’t let a client slip something in his drink or stealth off the condom.

Ian knocks and the door opens a second later, their Valentine’s Day clients on the other side. They’re both about the same age as Tyler’s dad, two pudgy short guys with sweet smiles. “Oh!” says the one on the left, looking Ian and Tyler up and down.

“Can we come in?” Tyler asks and they back into the room, all smiles, inviting Tyler and Ian inside.

“Hi, I’m Ian.” He offers his hand and the client shakes it. Tyler takes his lead and does the same. The clients are Carl and Walter and this is also their twenty-fifth anniversary and they wanted to treat themselves to something special.

“Would you like some room service?” Walter offers, and they haven’t even gotten started.

“Maybe after I work up an appetite,” Tyler says with just enough of a flirt in it to make them both blush. He steps in behind Ian, loops his arms low around his waist and puts his hands in the front pockets of Ian’s jeans.

“How about…” Ian starts, all slow like honey. “How about you show us the bedroom and Tyler and I will start slow with each other and you can join us whenever you’re ready.”

Carl and Walter share glances and nudges and a conversation of eyebrows. Tyler slides one hand up Ian’s stomach, up to toy with one of his nipples.

“Yep that uh, bedroom is this way,” Walter says, and he and Carl scramble to open the door for them.

Tyler and Ian follow them, laughing and bumping into each other. Ian twists as they get to the bed, sprawls Tyler out under him as they fall. He gazes into Tyler’s eyes, his voice soft and warm. “Hi,” he says, like it’s just the two of them, like they’re in love.

“Hey, you,” Tyler replies, brushing his knuckles over Ian’s cheek. They go slow, kissing and feeling each other up. Tyler glances at Carl and Walter sometimes, makes eye contact and holds it as Ian palms his hand over Tyler’s crotch.

“You should come feel him,” Ian says to the couple. “He feels so good…”

Tyler closes his eyes and arches into the touch. Later, when Ian’s running his hands through Tyler’s hair and Carl is fucking him, he has a moment, clear as an orgasm, a split-second where he’s not performing, where he’s not thinking first about how he looks and sounds to someone else, how his body pleases their body. For that moment, as Ian handles the clients, he is himself and nothing more. His pleasure is his own.

“You do feel so good,” Carl murmurs and the moment breaks, and Tyler opens his eyes, grins up at the man above him.

“You too,” he teases, rolls his hips and Carl comes.


	17. Our own private Valentines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tehcoop for the excellent beta on ch 17-20!

It’s Valentine’s (for Jamie and Tyler anyway) and Jamie lets himself indulge every romantic impulse he’s had since they met. He sets up one of the nicest restaurants in Dallas to prepare the best meal Tyler’s ever eaten at Jamie’s place.

Jordie goes and gets it for him, and then heads to Dillon’s for the night.

Jamie buys candles and flowers, for the table and the bedroom both. Finds a commercial-free slow-Jazz station for mood music. He doesn’t have an ice bucket, but he starts the bottle of red wine chilling in the biggest soup pot.

Tyler sets up a babysitter for the entire night. No alarms, no sneaking out after Jamie is asleep.

Jamie checks himself in the mirror. The fresh haircut and a game-day suit give him a boost of confidence.

The knock comes exactly at eight, and Jamie opens the door to Tyler looking sharp and handsome. He’s wearing the same starched white shirt and dress slacks Jamie first met him in, with a jacket and tie this time. 

“Hi,” Tyler says, soft and whispery.

Jamie swallows hard. “Hi,” he says back, steps aside and welcomes Tyler in. The lights are dim, the candles burning, the dinner keeping warm in a covered dish in the oven. 

Jamie closes the door and Tyler steps into his space, raising up to brush their lips together. The softest, sweetest tease, and Jamie holds back, as long as he can, breathing in Tyler’s air, feeling the heat of his body so achingly close. Tyler’s arms go around him, and Jamie deepens the kiss, tastes the back of Tyler’s teeth, the sweet mintiness of his tongue. 

Tyler makes a little gasp and he’s so warm and _right there_ but Jamie wanted this to be about more than sex. Wanted to show he’s serious about this, about Tyler. That even if he can’t take him to a fancy restaurant and show him off, that he still values him. 

Jamie swallows and puts his forehead against Tyler’s. 

“Food’ll dry out,” he murmurs. 

Tyler takes a breath, like he’s considering how bad could it be, but then he gives Jamie one last quick kiss. 

“Here, sit,” Jamie says, leads Tyler to the dining room and pulls out his seat for him. Jamie’s face is in a state of perpetual blush, but it’s worth it for the way Tyler smiles. 

Jamie serves the wine and then brings out the food, carrying the covered tray marked “1” with a pot-holder. He sets it down and pulls the lid off. He wasn’t sure what “Mushroom bisque with sherry vinegar gastrique and truffle creme fraiche” was when he ordered it, and he’s still not sure now. He hopes it’s supposed to look like a puddle of grey-brown liquid with a slightly firmer white dab in the middle. It smells good though, and Tyler smiles so he guesses they sent him the right thing.. 

It’s not the kind of thing Jamie would order twice. Might be better with a little more salt, but Tyler isn’t reaching for the shaker so Jamie doesn’t either.

The peppercorn crusted filet mignon with balsamic red wine sauce is better, full of flavor and meatiness. He should have ordered double though, because it’s barely a meal, even with the couscous and vegetables on the side.

Desert is in the fridge, and Jamie can’t help but smile at this part. Each one is a half-globe of chocolate shell, filled with cheesecake and piled with fresh fruits. Over top of it is a lattice-work shell of chocolate, like a snow globe around the desert.

“Wow,” Tyler says. “I almost don’t want to mess it up.” But he taps the top shell with the back of his fork and it caves in. It’s really good, and just the right size. Jamie thinks he would eat until he was sick, but he runs out of desert before that can happen. 

Jamie puts his fork down and Tyler’s watching him, the wine glass in his hand. He swirls it, takes a sip and licks his lips. A and okay, Jamie is done with food. 

“Give me just a second?” he asks, and Tyler looks pleased but puzzled as Jamie leaves the table without him.

“Okay,” Jamie calls when he has the candles in the bedroom lit. He stands where he can see Tyler come in, can see his face. It’s worth all the work he put in for the smile as Tyler takes in the candles and the flowers, the red satin sheets on Jamie’s bed. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” Tyler tips his head back, beckoning. “Come here and undress me.”

That’s an order Jamie has no problem following. He takes his time, undoing every button, kissing every inch of skin that’s uncovered. He goes to his knees as he opens Tyler’s fly, slides the slacks off his hips. Tyler’s watching him, his gaze heated, so Jamie takes down his boxer briefs, leans in and nuzzles Tyler’s dick across his cheek. He’s already hard, the slit glistening and eager. Jamie wants to lick it, taste it, but he denies himself.

There’s a thrill in being dressed when Tyler is naked for him, nothing on his body but the tattoos. A thrill to be on his knees in his game-day suit. 

“What do you want tonight?” Tyler asks, and it’s the first time he has since Jamie stopped paying. 

A shiver of want vibrates through Jamie’s stomach. 

“I wanna take you apart,” he whispers. “I want to open you up as slow as I can. Keep you as close as I can for as long as I can stand it. As long as you can stand it.”

Tyler’s breath hitches and his fingers brush against Jamie’s temple. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Jamie stands, puts his hands on Tyler’s naked hips and walks him backwards, lays him out on the bed. He looks beautiful there, bare against the shine of the red satin. His body is like an offering, and Jamie feels so good to be the one he gives himself to.

He leans over and kisses Tyler’s lower stomach, nips at the skin just below his navel. 

“Condoms,” Tyler whispers, and Jamie has an _oh fuck_ moment because Tyler’s always provided them and Jamie isn’t even sure if he has any.

But Tyler is pointing to the nightstand on the opposite side that Jamie keeps his phone charger, and when he opens the drawer there’s an unopened box and a bottle of lube. 

Jamie opens the box and brings back a string of condoms. He puts one on Tyler, just so Tyler can relax about it and then he puts himself back between Tyler’s knees, kissing the inside of his thigh, touching running his hands up each leg until his thumbs rub behind Tyler’s balls. 

Tyler is quiet, the quietest he’s ever been with Jamie. Jamie listens to his soft gasps, watches his fingers grip and release on the bed. He gets the lube and opens the cap. Pours a little on his fingers. It drips some, leaves a dark circle on the red satin. Jamie strokes the slick over Tyler’s hole, slowly teasing. 

“Jame,” Tyler gasps and then cuts himself off. A fine tremor runs up his legs with every stroke of Jamie’s finger. His hips start to rock in time. Jamie pushes in, just barely the depth of his fingertip. Keeps it from going deeper as Tyler tries to shift down on it.

“You like that?” Jamie asks. Makes a slow circle with his finger. 

Tyler holds the sheets for dear life, tries helplessly to get more, get more friction, more penetration. Jamie is throbbing, he’s so hard in his pants. He leans in and closes his lips over the tip of Tyler’s dick, just holding it with pressure. 

He’s never seen Tyler like this, so lost in the sensations. 

He’s never been much of a self-restraint kind of guy. He thought he’d last a minute of teasing them both before he broke and got his dick in Tyler, but this, seeing Tyler arching and squirming, his face shifting between pleasure and frustration—he finds reserves of self-denial he never thought he had. Tyler breaks before he does, when Jamie is three fingers into him and the insides of Tyler’s thighs are pink with the kiss of Jamie’s lips and the scrape of his teeth.

“Jamie, Jamie please.” His hips thrust, his hand reaches for his dick and then stops itself. He slides on the sheet and Jamie grabs his thigh to keep him there.

“Please, please, that’s all. That’s.”

“I gotcha,” Jamie soothes. He goes still for long seconds and Tyler’s pants turn to whimpers. 

And then Jamie puts his mouth on Tyler, sucks him down to the root at the same time he puts three fingers as deep in as he can, presses on Tyler’s prostate with heavy strokes. 

“Oh god. Oh god,” Tyler cries out, loud enough that Jamie is glad Jordie is elsewhere for the night. His hips buck and Jamie rides it, keeping him there, fucking him with his hand and mouth until Tyler goes stiff all over and then collapses back. 

“Oh fuck,” Tyler breathes with a delirious laugh. 

Jamie pulls off of his dick but he leaves his fingers where they are, waiting to see how it plays out.

It’s a good decision because it doesn’t take Tyler long to get himself back under control, to smile a dazed smile up at Jamie.

“What do you want now?” Jamie asks him.

Tyler’s hips start a slow roll against Jamie’s hand and he tucks the pinky in there, gives him something to push against.

“Wan’ you to fuck me. Want. My legs over your shoulders and you fucking me hard.”

It’s a service Jamie is happy to provide, his slacks open and pulled down to his knees, his shirt-tails pushed up. Tyler’s dick, bare, is hot in his hand. 

When Tyler shoots, he gets come on Jamie’s tie, shirt and Jacket, but it’s a small price to pay for the peaceful look on Tyler’s face. 

They rest after, catching their breath. There are pink marks on Tyler’s thighs that Jamie thinks might bruise in the morning. He wants to see it, the marks that he’d been there. Wants to wake up, line his fingers up on them and do this all over again.

Tyler snuggles in against him, toys with his tie. It’s silly, ridiculous. Jamie still mostly-dressed against Tyler’s nudity. 

A muffled ring chirps against the smooth jazz that’s playing. Tyler goes stiff against Jamie’s side. Waits like maybe it was a hallucination, but it comes again and Tyler sits up, goes to his pants and gets his phone.

“Mrs. Busari. Everything okay?”

He comes back to bed, lays against Jamie’s side, but his attention is on the voice on the other end of the connection.

“Livvie is not well.” Tyler is lying close enough that Jamie has no problems hearing. She has an accent of some kind, an odd cadence, the words shaped very precisely. 

“She has been vomiting. She is resting now, but she will not sleep and is asking for her father.”

Tyler nods, even though the babysitter can’t see him. He sits up, and Jamie’s side feels cold, even though he’s got his suit on. Tyler goes to the bathroom, saying things like “Give me a few” and “There in a little bit. Tell her I’m coming.”

Jamie stares at the ceiling. The water in the bathroom sink runs, and Tyler comes out again in a moment, hands Jamie a damp cloth. 

“She okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Tyler sighs. “Kids. They pick up every virus and cold known to man.”

He doesn’t understand, why Tyler has to go, if this isn’t an emergency, if Livvie will be sick if Tyler’s there or not. 

“Do you think you can come back? After you get her back to sleep?” he asks, because even he’s smart enough to know not to ask Tyler not to go.

Tyler shakes his head. “It’s halfway across town and it’s getting late.”

He starts getting dressed and Jamie works hard to keep his face blank. 

Tyler sits on the bed to tie his shoes and then leans over for a quick kiss. 

“I’ll see you soon. We’re still on for dinner with Jordie and Livvie next week.”

Jamie runs his hand down Tyler’s arm, closes his wrist in a loose circle, just for a moment. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Tyler gets up and goes, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. 

“Hey, are you good to drive?” 

“Completely.”

Tyler leaves, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Jamie can’t hear the front door, but the apartment is empty when he gets up and goes out to start the clean-up.

Tyler’s wine glass is full on the table, barely touched. Jamie picks it up and drinks it down. 

Ugh. He doesn’t even _like_ wine.


	18. Family dinner

“How granola does Tyler seem?”

Jamie thinks he misheard, but the weekday shoppers at Central Market aren’t nearly loud enough to cause that.

“Granola?”

Jordie shrugs. “Like with Livvie. Is he a all-organic, BPA-free, baby food made from scratch kinda parent or what?”

“I think he’s a frozen chicken nuggets kind of parent.”

“I don’t want her to just have the nuggets, even if she won’t eat something fancy. I don’t want to offer her crap Tyler doesn’t want her to eat either, though. Maybe like some frozen blueberries? Or carrot sticks?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Whatever you wanna do. I’ve got no clue.”

============

“Jamie Benn! Jamie Benn!” the little girl voice calls as Jamie opens the door.

“Hi,” Tyler says. Leans in for a quick kiss.

Jordie looks away, stirring the taco beef in the skillet. If he can get the meat right, then the rest is just stacking ingredients in everybody’s bowls. He turns the heat down another little bit and stirs it again.

Tyler carries Livvie over on his hip, waves to Jordie from the kitchen entryway. Jordie looks up and waves back. 

“You remember Jordie?”

“Mmmhmm he gave me the puck! Jorrr DeBenn.” 

Jordie grins. He’d had an assist that night, and the announcers said his name like that, drawing out the first syllable and smashing the next two together. 

“She remembers that? From the stadium?”

“She remembers _everything_ ,” Tyler says. It sounds like a warning. “You got anything in the oven? I’ll just put her nuggets in, if that’s okay.” He fishes around in the diaper bag on his shoulder, pulls out a zip-loc bag of nuggets.

“Yeah, sure. What temp?”

Jordie sets the oven and stirs the ground beef again. Tyler puts Livvie at the table with a board book and gets the cookie sheet Jordie points him to.

Jamie hovers in the doorway, looking vaguely constipated. 

Jordie and Tyler do a little dance as Tyler gets the nuggets in the oven, Jordie standing to the side but leaning over the stove so he can keep an eye on the meat. He will _be damned_ if he burns this.

The oven door closes and Tyler steps back. 

“Here,” Jamie says, and nods towards the living room.. 

“Okay,” Tyler tells Jamie, and scoops Livvie out of the seat and brings her with them. He glances back once at Jordie as they head to the living room. 

Jordie focuses on the skillet. 

========

“No touching.” Tyler brought toys for Livvie, but she seems more interested in the glowing buttons of Jamie’s entertainment system. 

“Look, I’ve got your radio.” Tyler holds out a white box with a handle made of plastic circles stuck together. There’s a big button on the front. When Tyler pushes it, fake-sounding classical music chimes out of it and it flashes multi-colored lights. 

“You hold my radio,” Livvie says and heads for the kitchen again. Tyler makes an exasperated noise and goes after her.

There’s a lot that makes Jamie feel out of his depth. Interviewers asking questions. Jeopardy. Dallas rush hour. Hiring a prostitute for the first time.

He doesn’t even know where the bottom of the pool is here. 

“Hi there!” 

Tyler stops short at the door, and Jamie steps in behind him. 

Jordie is crouching down to Livvie’s level, smiling at her. 

“You wanna help me cook?”

“I cook real good.”

“That’s great news,” Jordie says, and offers his arm. She steps in and he lifts her up. 

“I’m making tacos. Do you like tacos?”

“That doesn’t look like tacos.”

“Sh…shoot.” Jordie scrambles for the spatula, pushing the pan off of the heat and starting to scrape the bottom. With only one hand, the pan slides across the stove and he has to get it pushed against the back to keep it from sliding more.

“Nice save. I think we’re good now.”

“MmHmm it looks gross.”

Jordie chuckles. “Thanks.”

“That’s starcasm.”

The timer dings and Jordie steps back so Tyler can open the oven and pull out the nuggets. 

“Look what we’ve got for you,” he says and Livvie screams “Nuggets!” in Jordie’s ear. 

It’s so fucking domestic, and Jamie is standing by the door, unsure of his place, what Tyler wants him to be doing right now.

“Plastic plates are on the table already,” Jamie says.

Tyler plates the nuggets and Jamie offers to take them. Jordie didn’t go so far as to look at high chairs, but there’s a booster in one of the dining room seats and a place setting in teal plastic for Livvie to use.

“Wanna come see your spot?” Jamie asks.

“Yes!” Livvie says and tries to dive out of Jordie’s arms. Jordie swoops and doesn’t drop her, and Tyler takes her from him, following Jamie to the table.

Dinner is…dinner. Livvie dominates the table, asking questions and making noises at her nuggets. 

Jordie’s taco salad is one of the best things Jordie’s ever made, the meat only a little dry. 

“Two bites,” Tyler asks, and Livvie tries two bites of the taco meat and then wants her own bowl of it.

The whole thing is kind of tedious and Jamie thinks he should be feeling something here. Should be grinning like Jordie, but he’s not.

When Tyler and Jordie make a plan to do it again next week, he’s not looking forward to it at all.

===========

“We’re really sorry, son, but the rebranding isn’t going how we’d hoped. We’re not looking at a playoff run this season, maybe not next if we don’t do something drastic. Detroit’s on the bubble. They think they can get a playoff spot if they can just get the right guys. They made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

Jamie frowns. It sounds like somebody is being traded. 

“Uh, what?”

Nill’s voice drops from the crisp professionalism and into a gentler tone.

“You’ve been traded, Jamie. Pack a bag. Detroit wants you there tomorrow for practice.”

He’s still sitting there, head in hands, when Jordie comes home from the gym.


	19. The fallout

Jamie is just sitting there on the couch when Jordie gets back to their apartment. Head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. Jordie hesitates as he takes his shoes off.

“Chubbs? You okay?”

“No.”

His voice is hoarse, and Jordie’s hesitation turns to real worry. He goes over, sits on the chair across from him.

“What’s going on? Are you. Is everybody okay? Is it Tyler?” They seemed to have recovered after their fight over Valentines day, but neither of them is as happy as they had been the first couple times Jordie had seen them together.

Jamie shakes his head, his face still hidden.

“I’ve been traded.”

It’s so out of the blue that Jordie wonders if he heard right.

“What?”

“I’ve been fucking traded!” Jamie lifts his head, his cheeks blotchy, his eyes red.

It’s like a kick in the chest for Jordie; he can’t imagine what Jamie’s feeling.

“Oh, shit. Jamie…”

Jamie stands, jerky and uncoordinated.

“I gotta pack. I’m on a plane tonight. I. Detroit. What the fuck am I doing in Detroit?”

Shit. Jordie follows him to his bedroom, lingering by the door as Jamie pulls down his luggage. At least this part Jamie can do on autopilot, putting his suit into the flat bag, dress shoes, socks, tie, jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, casual shoes, workout clothes, toiletry bag. He looks around like he thinks there should be more.

“I’ll get. Somebody to come pack the rest and send it.” He sounds better, less angry but still in shock.

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll keep it all safe until you do.”

Shit, Jordie is getting stuck with the apartment. It’s not out of his budget to do it alone, but he hadn’t really counted on that when he’d moved in. He’s not a fan of living alone, of coming home to a quiet house. Jamie will have it harder though. He goes adrift when he doesn’t have connections, when there’s nobody to take care of him.

He can’t wrap his head around them trading Jamie. How much must they have offered. Holy shit.

Detroit though. Original Six. That has some gravitas, even if they’ve been struggling the past couple years. They wouldn’t buy a player like Jamie, on the cusp of the trade deadline, if they didn’t think they had a chance to make a good run at the cup. He can’t imagine what they paid in draft picks and prospects.

Jamie stands in the middle of the room until his ragged breathing is smoother, slower.

“Can you drive me to the airport?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

============

The Red Wings are in New York playing the Rangers when Jamie gets to Detroit, which saves him from being met at the airport by anybody but a driver. He’s not sure he could handle a team dinner or meeting his new captain right now, so it’s for the best.

The flight, the time it takes to wait for his luggage at baggage claim, and the ride to the hotel is all time he spends thinking.

When he gets in, he takes off his shoes, his jacket and tie. Sits on the edge of the bed cradling his phone in his hands. There are a couple dozen messages, but none from the number he calls.

“Jamie! I heard the news. Holy shit.” Tyler sounds keyed up, worried. It seems like a hopeful sign.

“Yeah. I. Detroit. Fuck.”

They sit and listen to each other breathe for a bit while Jamie gathers his courage.

“I was. Wondering what you think of moving here.”

Tyler misses a beat. “What?” Not like he’s questioning Jamie’s sanity, but like he couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

A long sigh does nothing to make this easier. “I know it’s early, that we. Haven’t been together long. I just. I like you. I want you with me. We could get a place. Say you’re my roommate friend from Dallas. You could do whatever you wanted here. You said. One time, we were talking and you said you had plans after you quit this job. Maybe you could start them now.”

Tyler’s voice is soft with regret and sympathy.

“Jamie. I can’t. I like literally can’t. You think I’d be raising Livvie a thousand miles from home if I had an option? Her mom’s parents. They’ve got visitation rights. I can’t leave the state with her without their permission.”

Jamie frowns. Shit. He didn’t know that.

“What are they like? Are they bad people?”

Tyler huffs. “They’re perfectly fine people. Just not to me.”

“But Livvie. They could take her for a couple weeks while you come up. See what it’s like here, look at houses with me.”

“No.” There’s no wiggle room to the word, no easy opening to make. “I can’t risk them saying I abandoned her, or that I demonstrated that she wasn’t important to me. I don’t. I don’t even _want_ to leave her. I haven’t been apart from her for longer than legally required since she was born.”

Jamie winces, rocks himself slowly where he’s sitting.

“Can we. Are we…this isn’t forever. I mean summer is coming up.” Couple months without Tyler. No big deal. He rolls his eyes at himself. It feels like forever.

“Don’t. Don’t break up with me tonight,” Jamie pleads.

“Hey, hey, don’t think about that. You’ve got enough on your plate. New team, new city. Just. We’ll figure it out. Don’t make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that.”

Jamie closes his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. So uh, what happened in your show this week?”

He listens to the second-hand high-school drama until Tyler’s done talking about it, just to hear the sound of his voice.

========

 

 **Jordie:**  
_Hey, don’t be a stranger. You two still coming for dinner thurs?_

Jordie stares at the unsent text for a long time. Too much? Kinda weird? Inviting his brother’s boyfriend over when his brother isn’t here.

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he kind of gets the feeling Tyler doesn’t have a lot of friends. Jordie thinks it means something, that he’d even accepted the invitation in the first place, and how excited Livvie was all three times. Kids pick up on things, and if Tyler was coming over out of obligation, Jordie doesn’t think she’d be as happy about it.

Tyler had kept coming even when Jamie didn’t seem thrilled. Tyler seems like the kind of guy who notices the opinions of people around him, even when they don’t talk about it. He’s never ever made fun of Jordie’s cooking. Tyler knows Jamie isn’t into the home-cooked dinner dates and he keeps coming, so Tyler must be getting something out of it, right?

Jordie understands being alone in a strange city. He’s done more traveling than Jamie these past few years--first with The Americans and then with the Texas Stars. He knows how hard it is to make friends. Tyler’s work can’t make it easier. Being a young guy with a kid can’t help either.

Jordie sends the text.

Over an hour goes by before he gets the reply.

 **Tyler:**  
_You don’t have to go to that trouble_

It’s not a no. He wants to give Tyler an out if he doesn’t want to come, but make it easy to say yes if he does.

 **Jordie:**  
_May as well if you don’t have plans_  
 _I already shopped_

He doesn’t have to wait as long for the reply this time.

 **Tyler:**  
_Dinner sounds really good_  
 _See you at 6?_

Jordie smiles. Confirms the time and puts his phone away.

Mission accomplished.

 

===============

 

Jamie watches the clock as he reheats yesterday’s take-out leftovers.

Tyler said he’d be free at eleven. It’s late enough that Jamie took a longer than usual nap after practice. He woke up later than he’s used to, feeling out of sorts and off-balance.

Skype is weird. He lays down in bed and brings the laptop with him. Watches the clock until right at eleven. Does the log-in stuff and waits for Tyler to show.

Tyler dials him at one minute past and Jamie answers. It’s only been a couple days since the last Skype, but Jamie drinks in the sight of him. He looks good, his hair swept back from his face. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and slacks.

Jamie tries not to let it bother him, seeing Tyler in his work uniform. Tyler’s been fucking guys tonight, but he’s here, on the computer with Jamie because he wants to be.

“Hey,” Tyler says. His tablet doesn’t have the best camera, but Jamie can see he looks tired.

Jamie nods, awkward. “Hey. How’s Dallas?”

“Good. Good. All the schools are closed next week for spring break, so I’ve got Livvie and the boys.”

“Sounds rough,” Jamie says.

Tyler shrugs. “I’ll live.”

“I miss you,” Jamie says, the words slipping from mind to mouth without a second to think if he should say them.

“I miss you too,” Tyler says.

Jamie knows he’s being a dick, knows he’s seeing things that aren’t there. Tyler likes him. He likes Tyler. They’re dating.

Tyler’s words feel rote though, and he has to look away for a second.

“Saw the highlights of your game last night,” Tyler says. At least hockey is going well for him. If it was as easy to make friends off the ice as it is to click with teammates on it, Jamie wouldn’t have this aching void of loneliness in his chest.

“I miss you,” he says again.

Tyler hums thoughtfully.

“Want a little memory to keep you warm up there in Detroit?”

The tone wakes the stir of arousal up in Jamie’s stomach. The thirst to touch him, taste him.

It’s worse every time they Skype sex. If condoms were bad, this, not even being able to touch, to smell, to feel is so much worse.

“Yeah.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. It hurts but he wants it anyway.

Tyler unzips his pants, spreads the waistband wide open in front. He’s wearing the white briefs. There’s something about them, some twist on the wholesome nerdiness of the white cotton instead of the sleek black spandex Tyler wears most of the time.

Jamie wants to put his face on that white cloth and nuzzle in until all he can smell or feel is Tyler.

“You wanna get naked for me?” Tyler whispers.

Jamie feels cold.

He takes off his shirt, wiggles out of his pants.

It’s better than porn. Tyler asking him to touch himself. Tyler showing Jamie his body, his dick. Naked on what looks like a hotel bed.

Tyler rolls over onto his stomach, turns so Jamie can see his ass, his legs spread and all of him on display. He reaches down underneath himself and back, fingers his hole. Tyler’s boasts of his flexibility were never a lie.

“Fuck, I wish you were here. Right here. Right in me,” Tyler pants and Jamie comes.

By the time he’s completely aware of the world again, Tyler is breathing against the sheets, his entire body lax and lean and Jamie wants to lick the sweat off of his back.


	20. Not with a bang but a whimper

**Tyler:**  
_I have a question_  
_Feel free to say no_

Jordie frowns at the phone.

**Jordie:**  
_Okaaay_  
_At least ask before you say no for me_

**Tyler:**  
_Schools out this week_  
_I’ve got Livvie and the boys_  
_Was thinking about bringing them to watch practice_  
_But didnt want to show up if makes you uncomfortable_

That…deserves more than a frown. What the fuck.

**Jordie:**  
_Can you talk right now?_

**Tyler:**  
_Yes?_

Jordie calls.

Tyler’s “Hello,” sounds nervous.

“Hey,” Jordie says, trying for casual. “Yeah. It’s no problem at all for you to bring the kids to practice. I don’t—why would I mind?”

There’s a little pause.

“It just always made Jamie nervous - the idea of me showing up there. With uh, what we are to each other.”

It’s not much of a bright side to Jamie’s trade, but Jordie is glad he can say “It’s not a problem. Bring the kids. You want me to send somebody out to get you guys when it’s over? Give them a tour of the locker room after everybody’s showered and changed?”

“Um, yeah! That would be awesome. The boys haven’t really been exposed to hockey much, so that would be neat for them, and seriously, anything to burn up some more minutes of the day is a bonus.”

He sounds so relieved at the idea that Jordie smiles.

“So how’d you get stuck babysitting three kids?”

“The boys are my usual sitter’s kids. She takes Livvie at nights and odd hours for me, and I try to take them for her when I’m not working. They’ve got off school this week and her work isn’t flexible about it, so I said I’d take them instead of her having to find childcare.”

“How old are they?”

“Six and eight.”

Jordie whistles low. “Wow. You’re a tougher guy than me, then.”

Tyler laughs, an edge of hysteria to it. “My plan is to keep them out and about for as much of the week as I can. I’ll let you know how I’m making out at dinner Thursday.”

“Good luck with that,” Jordie teases.

“Thanks.”

=============

Practice over spring break is packed with spectators, one of the busiest of the year. Tyler and his crew must have gotten there early though—they’ve got a good spot by the glass at center ice. He’s got Livvie on his hip and two dark-skinned boys in front of him.

Jordie can’t go make a fuss at practice like he can at warm-ups, when crowd-service is part of the goal. He waves as he goes past though, stretching out and getting his muscles moving before coach starts giving them drills to run.

It’s pretty low-key for a practice. They’re officially out of a playoff spot and there’s nothing left to play for except pride. Jordie skates against a dozen pairs of rushing forwards and mostly gives them something to work against.

After Ruff calls it, most of the guys head back to shower and change. Roussel and a couple of the young guys stay out doing one-timer practices, and Jordie joins them. Who knows what’ll happen over the summer—showing that he’s ready to work, even when the season is effectively over, can’t hurt his chances to be on the team again next year.

He’s not sure how Jamie being traded is going to affect him in the long run. He knows that some of his value to the team had been in giving Jamie an anchor, a familiar touch-stone in this whole captain thing they’d thrust upon him.

On the other hand, Jamie being on the team had left Jordie constantly in his shadow, constantly held up in comparison. He knows he’s good. He knows he’s NHL good. He also knows that if he was as good a D-man as Jamie is forward, he’d be making a hell of a lot more than a tenth of Jamie’s salary. Maybe Jamie being gone will give him more room to breathe, more time to focus on his own game.

Most of the spectators have filtered out into the hall to wait by the gauntlet for the players to come out but Tyler and the kids are still by the glass.

Jordie gathers pucks and then gives Tyler a ‘wait’ gesture. He skates to the player’s exit from the rink and grabs one of the interns as he goes past.

“See the guy over there? Dark hair, three kids.”

The guy nods.

“He’s a friend of mine. Can you show him through to the locker room when it’s safe for small eyes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no problem.”

Jordie makes one last lap of the rink.

“Just wait here,” he says as he stops in front of Tyler.

Tyler and Livvie’s cheeks are pink from the cold and the boys look bright-eyed and excited.

“Got it,” Tyler says, and Jordie goes into the back, gets stripped and showered and changed.

“Jor DeBenn! Jor DeBenn!” Livvie is the first one through the door, one of the boys on either side of her holding her hands even though she looks pretty frustrated with it.

Jordie sits down on the bench, his feet dangling over the distance that his skates usually take up.

“Hey, you made it!”

“That was so cool, Mr. Benn! The way you checked that guy and the time you blocked that shot before it could get to the goalie!”

The boys enthuse about every move Jordie made the whole practice, like it was the Stanley Cup Final and Jordie was the first star of the game. It’s flattering as hell.

“Didja have lunch yet?” he asks when it’s clear the boys have cycled through their reminiscences a couple times already. He glances up at Tyler, who is still smiling, so Jordie didn’t overstep.

“I was gonna run them by McDonalds. Let them play as long as they will, see if I can get them tired enough to sleep in the car on the way back.”

“My treat?” Jordie offers.

“Sure. You want to meet us there or ride over with us?”

“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind driving me back over here when we’re done.”

“You can carry me,” Livvie offers. It sounds more like a command. She climbs up on the bench, Jordie’s hand behind her in case she slips, stands up and holds up her arms.

“Livvie, your legs work.”

Jordie shrugs when she turns to Tyler. He doesn’t mind, really.

Tyler makes a teasing grumble. “Don’t get used to it,” he warns her, like he’s not wrapped around her little finger.

===========

“Nice goal last night,” the equipment guy says as he hands Jamie his stack of sticks. Most of the players like to tape their own, and Jamie is one of those.

“Thanks,” Jamie says.

The guy looks at him a tiny bit too long.

Holds the sticks just enough after Jamie has them that Jamie looks down.

There’s a tiny tattoo on the webbing by the guy’s thumb, a maple leaf or maybe marijuana, colored in with rainbow stripes.

Excitement flutters in Jamie’s stomach.

The possibilities. Not being the only one.

“I’m Nate,” the guy says. His eyes are very blue, hair and skin both a honeyed gold. He’s built like an athlete, his face just on the ‘handsome’ side of average.

Jamie offers his hand.

“Jamie.”

“I already knew that.”

Jamie scratches the back of his neck. Of course he did.

“Have they shown you around Detroit yet?”

“Not the important parts.”

It’s reckless and maybe a little self-destructive, to risk identifying himself like this, an indication of just how miserable he is here. He glances meaningfully at Nate’s tattoo.

“You should let me show you around sometime.”

It’s easier to say “Yeah. Sure. I’d like that,” than to think of why he shouldn’t—Tyler back in Dallas, the hurt every fucking time they talk. The pain of separation, of knowing Tyler’s out having sex with a whole lot of men. What fucking reason is there to not take a co-worker out for drinks?

===========

 

**Jamie:**  
_I am sorry but I don’t think the long dist is working for me. I can’t do this. I miss you all the time. Come to Detroit. Please._

Tyler racks his weights and checks his phone. He has to read it twice.

**Tyler:**  
_I have Livvie. I’m not leaving her_

He’s been so fucking clear—what part of ‘no’ does Jamie not understand.

**Jamie:**  
_I’ll hire you a lawyer._  
_I’ll come out_  
_We can get married_  
_I’ll take care of you both_

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler heads for the gym’s locker room. Who the hell does this by _text_?

**Tyler** :  
_Take care of?_

**Jamie:**  
_Whatever you need_  
_Whatever Livvie needs_

There’s a certain calm that passes over Tyler. A kind of finality. The only thing he ever needed was Jamie’s respect, and there wasn’t a minute of their relationship when he felt like he had it. Tyler’s just been putting layers and layers of fantasy over it, wishful thinking that isn’t based on reality. Every word he said to Jamie at the Pho restaurant two months ago is still true. Jamie doesn’t see Tyler.

He could go. He could work this as a job for the next couple years. Get Livvie into a good school, get himself started in college earlier than he’d planned. Make Jamie feel good for as long as Jamie could fool himself and then make a nest-egg out of the divorce settlement.

He imagines his future and sees nothing but misery. A charade he wants no part of and sure as hell wouldn’t bring Livvie into. 

**Tyler:**  
_I can’t come to detroit for you_

**Jamie:**  
_I’m sorry to hear that_  
_I can’t be with you like this_  
_It’s too far_  
_It hurts too bad_  
_I hope we can still be friends_

It seems rehearsed. Planned. He wonders if Jamie has the words written down in front of him.

Tyler expects a certain amount of sorrow. It’s the end of his longest relationship since Alyssa. Six whole weeks since Tyler black-listed him. What he feels is relief. Relief and an edge of anger.

**Tyler:**  
_When were we ever friends?_

He turns off his phone, takes a breath and goes back to finish his workout.


	21. The unbroken heart

**Tyler:**  
_We still on for dinner tonight?_

**Jordie:**  
_??? Of course?_

Jordie shakes his head and puts the phone away. Every time, Tyler’s like this, checking like he might change his mind between inviting them and the day of the dinner. Like he expects Jordie to rescind the invitation.

It’s a little insulting, to be honest.

He continues his search through Central Market. What the hell is a pine nut?

“Can I help you find anything?” one of the helpful associates asks.

“No, no, I’m good.”

==========

Jordie opens the door and smiles. Livvie looks like a princess, the world’s puffiest pink dress flouncing around her. Tyler, behind her, is dressed like normal, jeans and a t-shirt, snapback cap on his head.

“Wow, don’t you look fancy! Is that a new dress?”

“Grandma gave me it!”

Tyler’s smile is strained behind Livvie’s back. “Grandma is very generous.”

From what little he’s said about them, it sounds like a tense situation. Livvie’s dress is very pretty, like something a flower girl would wear to a wedding. Jordie’s no fashion expert, but it looks expensive. More elaborate than anything Tyler’s brought her over in before, for sure.

“Well it looks nice,” Jordie says.

“What’s for dinner?” Tyler asks. He looks…something, Jordie thinks. Tired or stressed out.

“Million Dollar Spaghetti.”

Livvie’s eyes go wide. “Whoa.”

“That’s just the name,” Tyler tells her. “Jordie didn’t spend a million dollars on spaghetti.”

“Oh.”

Jordie puts the oven mitts on and Tyler keeps a hand on Livvie to keep her away from the heat as Jordie pulls the dish out.

The recipe photo had looked like a spaghetti casserole, and Jordie’s resembles a tan brick that was on the bottom of a tire fire. The cheese kind of bubbled over the side and the pasta has cooked into one semi-solid lump. It cuts fine though, and Livvie doesn’t even ask for nuggets, so he guesses he did okay.

=============

“Eh, it’s Detroit,” Jamie says, like that answers everything Jordie could mean when he asked “How’s Detroit.”

“Liking your team? How’s your captain out there. They treating you right?”

They talk a while. Jordie has to pull answers out of Jamie, but Jamie seems lighter when he’s done, like admitting he misses Dallas, misses the Stars makes it easier to take.

“You quit the sit-down dinners, or have you roped some of the guys into coming over?” Jamie asks.

“Huh?”

“The trade kind of messed up that tradition.” That doesn’t help explain it at all.

“It’s not the same without you, but it’s good to see Tyler and Livvie on the regular still.”

“I thought…I didn’t think he’d keep coming over.” Jordie isn’t sure if Jamie sounds puzzled or annoyed.

“Huh? Jamie, why wouldn’t Tyler come to dinner?” A sinking feeling is starting to build in Jordie’s stomach. The way Tyler had asked if they were still invited. How he’d seemed off.

“We uh. We broke up. Couple days ago.”

“What? Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I. Couldn’t take it anymore. Being so far away. Knowing he was fucking other guys. I. It was getting so hard. So complicated. I gave him every chance to make it work but he wouldn’t come with me. I asked him to marry me.”

“Wow,” Jordie says. He can’t imagine Jamie being the one to break it off any more than he can imagine Jamie proposing at the failing end of a relationship. He’d frankly been surprised Tyler had stayed as long as he had, especially after Valentines.

“How’d he take it?”

“Uh. He was pretty pissed, I think.”

“You think?”

“Hard to tell over text. He said we’d never been friends and then he blocked me.”

“What, did he hang up on you and then have more to say?”

Jamie’s quiet for a beat.

“I uh. We’d been texting. The talk about what I wanted and he didn’t. And then I said I hope we can be friends still, and he said we’d never been friends.”

Jamie sounds so honestly perplexed by the turn of events that Jordie can only shake his head.

“Look, I’m just your brother; I’m not living your life, but next time you need to talk our-futures-together stuff with somebody, maybe give them a call.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Jamie answers. There’s no heat to it, but he’s not in the habit of ever letting his older siblings be right.

“You okay?” Jordie asks again, softer.

“I miss him. It’s lonely here.”

“I know, bud. There’s not much of a season left. Do what you can, and next year it’ll be better. You’ll have more time to get to know your team, get actually settled in the city. It’ll get better.”

“Yeah,” Jamie sighs. “Hey, I gotta go hit the gym.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself. Call me if you need me.”

===============

 

**Jordie:**  
_Shit jamie just told me_  
 _Wow_

Okay, Jordie knows that doesn’t look right. He adds a couple more texts to smooth it over.

**Jordie:**  
_I can’t believe he did that._  
 _You okay?_

The reply comes a little later.

**Tyler:**  
_I’m okay._

Jordie watches the screen but no other message comes in.

**Jordie:**  
_I have off on wed_  
 _Want to go out and drown your sorrows?_

**Tyler:**  
_I’m okay_  
 _But yeah, going out sounds fun_  
 _Been a long time since I was on the other side of the bar_

===========

Jordie isn’t sure what kind of place Tyler wants to go to. Probably not a dance club, if he’s gonna drink and get morose, but he’d said ‘fun’ so maybe that is the plan.

**Jordie:**  
_Dress code?_

Tyler sends back a selfie of himself in the back of his Uber, wearing a loose t-shirt and comfortable-fitting jeans.

Okay then. He gets dressed and pulls on his shoes, grabs his phone, keys and wallet and heads down to meet Tyler at the car.

Tyler’s grinning when he swings the door open for Jordie to get in. He buckles up and the driver drives.

“Okay, so. I’m having more than two beers tonight, but I’ve gotta be mostly-sober by three, so if we’re still out at one thirty, I would appreciate it if you cut me off.”

“Yeah, I can do that. You’re not a combative drunk, are you? You’re not gonna punch me to get to the bar, right?”

Tyler giggles. “Not a chance.”

The bar the driver drops them in front of is more of a sports-themed restaurant that has a large bar area. Tyler gets them a booth where they can each see a TV but they’re not so close to the speakers that it’s too loud to talk. Jordie orders half the appetizers on the menu and a couple margaritas to start them off.

“Thanks,” Tyler says halfway into his alcoholic beverage. “Like. I think I’m good. I think it was good that it ended, no matter how fail-tastic Jamie did it. But it’s cool that you offered. That you’re still around even though he isn’t.”

Jordie shrugs. “I’d be a pretty shitty friend to ghost you with no reason.”

Tyler takes another long sip of his margarita, his cheeks hollowing around the straw. “I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he says when he’s done.

“That’s fucked up,” Jordie tells him. “Just so you know.”

Tyler laughs and eats a nacho piled high with steak and cheese and salsa.

“But really,” Tyler says. “I’m okay. It is by far not the worst breakup of my life.”

Jordie raises an eyebrow. “The way he puts it, he texted you a demand to marry him and move, and then broke up with you when you didn’t.”

Tyler tips his head in acknowledgment. “But he didn’t try to run me over with his car, so that was a nice change.”

“Whoa, seriously? Was this Livvie’s mom? You said she wasn’t in the picture. I thought it was like the ‘died in childbirth’ story or something and we weren’t talking about it. I didn’t want to bring up a tragedy.”

Tyler snorts at Jordie's overactive imagination. “So. I uh, the year I stopped playing in the OHL. I finished school and then I was drifting for the summer. Went down to see some friends that lived in Boston, and met this girl. Alyssa. Pretty. Smart. She was older than me. Going to school there and staying over the summer to hide out from her parents. We hooked up, I was pretty much living in her place, it was all good.

“And then she missed her period, and another couple. Ran a test and she was pregnant. I was like ‘whatever you want to do, it’s your body’ like you’re supposed to, and she said she was gonna get an abortion. Except she fucked around and put it off and her belly was getting bigger. I got a job because it looked like I was gonna be a dad.”

Tyler’s smile has faded somewhere in the telling.

“She uh, I got home from work and she wasn’t there. Called her best friend and she said they were out at a party. I go to get her and she’s fucked up. Drunk. High. I put her in the car and went around to get in, and she’d climbed over the middle into the driver’s seat. She put it in gear and I went bouncing off over the hood. She wrapped it around a tree three blocks away.”

His lips twitch and he lifts his head like he realizes he’s being a downer.

“It worked out, because she got pre-natal care while she was in court-ordered rehab. She couldn’t leave until after Livvie was born, so she couldn’t hurt herself or Livvie until that was over.

“I thought. I thought I’d just dump Livvie with Alyssa’s parents and head home to Brampton, but. I held her in my hands and she was so tiny and she was mine and like hell I was giving her up. When Alyssa’s parents came back to Dallas, I did too.” Tyler’s face lights up when he talks about that first moment of fatherhood. Three years later and his voice is still filled with wonder.

“Holy shit,” Jordie breathes, letting his admiration show. “I thought it was harsh when my roommate’s girlfriend dumped a Coke into his X-Box when she caught him cheating.”

Tyler quirks a smile. “So yeah. I’m not traumatized getting broken up with by text.” The smile fades again and his eyes go distant. He doesn’t look tipsy, but he’s cycling through emotions kind of fast. He catches the eye of their waiter and signals for another.

“I keep looking back and all I can see are mistakes. I didn’t think I was star-struck, but I just. I had the chance to talk hockey with Jamie fucking Benn and I started gushing. That’s when it went from sex to more and I never should have let it go there.”

“Not your fault. He’s intense and he’s used to getting what he wants. He works hard, but he’s never tried for something he hasn’t been able to get. Youngest child. He’s used to getting it all, eventually.”

“Here’s to being the older brother,” Tyler says when their fresh drinks appear, clinks the glass against Jordie’s.

They don’t talk relationships for the rest of the night. They watch the NBA games that are showing and talk sports for a while and then on to Tyler’s little sisters, Jordie’s older one. Tyler gets rosy-cheeked and soft around the edges, more inclined to giggle. He stops drinking without Jordie’s intervention well before the cut-off time.

==============

Jordie opens his duffle bag, lays it out on the bench in front of his stall. The other guys are pretty quiet as they do the same. Eaks makes a joke and it falls flat in the room.

Locker clean-out day is harder for some players than others. Jordie doesn’t think it bothers him too much. At his level of play, it doesn’t feel personal that they didn’t make it to the playoffs. He put in his all into the season, but there’s no way he was make-or-break, that they’d have had a chance if he’d just been a little faster, if he’d caught more lucky bounces, if his shots had been a little straighter. Some of the better guys, they take it personal, like they feel responsible.

Jamie had been like that, last season, watching tape, replaying every missed pass and every penalty he took and every shot that pinged off of the goalpost.

“Plans for the summer?” Fidds asks, plopping down beside Jordie.

“Heading home. Gonna spend time with the family. Jamie’ll be there, whenever his season is done. Looking forward to the quiet. Fishing and maybe some hiking.”

Fiddler bumps Jordie’s shoulder.

“Tell Jamie we said hi.”

“Will do.”


	22. Whoops

“Can we fool around in the shower?” Marcus is an easy client without a lot of special requests. He likes it when Tyler’s into things, when Tyler tells him he’s doing a good job. Maybe it’s a pro athlete thing. 

Saying yes to something so small doesn’t seem like the worst idea Tyler’s had since he agreed to date Jamie fucking Benn.

They’re making out, Tyler’s back to the tile, Marcus in front of him, hands on his abs, sliding and soapy. Tyler isn’t small, but Marcus makes him feel that way, taller than Tyler by six inches, half again as heavy. He reaches around to cup Tyler’s ass and then lower, behind his thighs.

“You make me just wanna—” Marcus says through his teeth, and then takes a breath in, bends his knees. For a second, Tyler things he’s just trying to get a better angle on the frottage, but he’s moving, balance shifting, the tile wall sliding against his back.

“Shit, don’t—” Tyler manages to get out as Marcus lifts. Lifts him off of his feet. 

The floor of the tub squeaks under Marcus’s feet and it’s the scariest sound Tyler’s heard in a long time.

And then Marcus is falling, eyes wide, Tyler groping for a grip on the slick tiles. 

The edge where the top of the tub meets the wall catches him across the back of his pelvis and then the back of the head. 

He wakes up on the bathroom floor, Marcus patting his hand. 

“Tyler, baby, are you okay? Oh shit you scared me to death.”

“Yeah.” Tyler frowns and tries to sit up. “Was I out? How long was I out?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I forgot to count. I can’t believe I forgot to count. It felt like forever. I was gonna call 911 on your phone. I don’t think it was long…”

The light is very very bright. Tyler’s ribs ache, and his lower back is a sharp hurt but at least he can feel it, can wiggle all his toes. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “Just. Help me up?”

Marcus is big enough to man-handle Tyler like a rag doll. Instead, he offers Tyler his hand, helps him to his feet without touching Tyler more than is absolutely necessary. He looks scared as shit, probably worried that he’d be caught in a hotel room with a dead sex worker. Not exactly great for his football career.

The room spins. Okay, okay, Tyler just needs to get dressed and get home. He’ll call Ibrahim. 

He fumbles for his shirt and Marcus helps him put his arms in the sleeves. 

“Do you need money for the ER?”

Tyler is very careful not to shake his head. 

“I’m okay. I got it.”

Shit, he should probably have Ibrahim take him to a twenty-four hour Doc-in-a-Box.

===============

Jordie pauses his show and gets up to get a beer. In the silence that’s left, he hears a rattle at his apartment door, the clink of keys. He frowns. There’s nobody in Dallas left that has a key to this place. 

He doesn’t bother with a shirt as he goes to the door. He opens it and kind of wishes he had put on some clothes. Tyler is in the hall, keys in hand, trying to open an apartment door that isn’t his. He looks disheveled, unsteady.

“Tyler?” 

Tyler frowns. Continues to frown. His left hand is behind his head, a strange piece of body language.

“Jordie? What’re you doing here?”

And shit, if Tyler’s doing a drunk bootie call to Jamie then maybe he’s not taking the breakup as well as he says he is.

Tyler turns to look behind him like the apartment complex wallpaper is the most perplexing thing. 

“This is your place. How did? I don’t?”

Jordie snorts. “Yeah bud, how drunk are you?” If Tyler drove here like this, Jordie is gonna have to kick his ass.

“Not. I didn’t. I don’t drink at work.”

Jordie leans in. If Tyler’s been drinking, it’s not enough for him to smell over his own faint beer breath. Shit. Showing up drunk to beg Jamie to take him back was not the worst-case reason for him acting this way.

“Hey, it’s fine. I was just watching TV. Why don’t you come in and I’ll get you some water and you can get your bearings.”

“My head hurts,” Tyler whines, sounding remarkably like Livvie. He sways and Jordie takes his arm, leads him in and to the couch, half-wondering if he should just put him in the truck and go to the ER instead of trying to see what’s going on.

“Did you take something? Could someone have given you something?”

Tyler puts his other hand behind his head too. “Fell. The shower. Shower sex is off my menu forever.”

Concussed is better than Tyler ODing on Rohypnol some client slipped him. At least this, Jordie has a clue about. 

“Here, sit down on the couch.” He helps Tyler down and then hurries over to turn off the closest and brightest of the lights, leaving the TV to illuminate the room. He crosses back to Tyler’s side.

“Can I see it?” There doesn’t seem to be blood on the back of Tyler’s shirt. 

Tyler takes a whimpering breath but he moves his hands. 

“My head hurts, Jordie,” he says again. 

With the lightest touch Jordie can manage, he feels out the shape of a hell of a goose-egg on the back of Tyler’s skull. 

“Yeah, it got you good,” he says like Tyler didn’t know that part already. “Coach would say to have someone stay with you overnight to make sure your symptoms don’t get worse and go see a doctor in the morning. We could take you to urgent care though, get you seen tonight and something for the pain.”

“Can’t. Livvie. She’s with the baby-sitter. Gotta get her.”

“What time?” 

“Three. Little after. When the bars close.”

Jordie isn’t sure what that has to do with anything, but it gives them four hours. 

============

“Mr. Seguin?” The nurse with a clipboard opens the door that leads to the examination room.

Tyler doesn’t twitch from where he’s hiding from the glare against Jordie’s shoulder. She pronounced it different than Tyler did when Jordie was signing him in.

“Hey, that’s you,” Jordie says, soft. “Time to go. One foot in front of the other and I’ll keep you from walking into the walls.”

He guides Tyler through the maze of corridors, following the nurse. She has Tyler stand on the scales and then takes them to a room. 

“Mr. Seguin, we need your friend to wait out in the lobby,” the nurse says. “Privacy concerns.”

Jordie has been to a hell of a lot of doctors in his life, has been there with teammates and family. Been patient or crutch a dozen times over and has never heard that he _needs to_ wait outside. 

“What? No, no I want him here.” He grabs onto Jordie’s forearm.

“There might be conversation of a confidential nature,” the nurse warns, and Jordie feels like there’s something that’s not being said, some kind of code he’s missing. Maybe Tyler’s been here before and they know about his work?

The nurse makes a non-committal noise but starts the normal procedures—blood pressure, temperature, that clippy thing with the light they stick on your finger. 

At first Jordie thinks she’s being brusque with Tyler, but as she shoos Jordie out of her way _again_ he thinks it’s just him. 

The doctor knocks and comes in. He’s a big guy, taller than Jordie but soft around the middle. He introduces himself to Tyler, shakes his hand even though Tyler doesn’t look like he’s feeling up to pleasantries. 

“So, a fall in the shower?” 

“Yeah. My head hurts. My head really hurts.”

The doctor starts the concussion protocol, almost exactly what Jordie is used to seeing in sports. It’s reassuring in its familiarity. Tyler is grumpy and hurting, but he gets the answers close-enough. He knows he was unconscious but isn’t sure how long it was for. The doc flicks a little pen-light in Tyler’s eyes a few times, covering first one eye and then the other, comparing pupil size and responsiveness. 

“Well, it’s pretty obviously a concussion,” the doctor says. He moves into a more usual basic physical exam, feeling Tyler’s lymph nodes, checking his ears, throat and nose with a little light.

“If you’ve got someone to stay with you, there’s no reason you can’t go home. I’ll prescribe you some pain-killers for the next couple days.”

He pulls out his stethoscope and listens to Tyler’s breathing from the front, reaches around to hear the back and Tyler gasps. The doctor doesn’t seem surprised. 

“Sir, you need to wait for Mr. Seguin in the lobby,” the doctor says and Jordie frowns.

“Why? Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?”

“You need to go outside so I can finish this examination,” the doctor says. He’s talking tight, breathing short and tense. Like he’s about to get into a fight. Like he’s about to fight Jordie to care for Tyler. 

Oh. 

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I can do that,” Jordie says, stuffs his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders in a little. It never occurred to him that anybody could think _he_ had hurt Tyler, could ever hurt Tyler. 

“No. No, Jordie don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

It’s like taking a punch to the gut. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right outside. I’ll be here as soon as the doctor is done checking you out.” 

Tyler sniffles and closes his eyes, his head hanging like it’s too heavy to keep it up anymore. 

Walking away is one of the hardest things Jordie has ever done, but he goes back out to the waiting area. He wants to pace but he sits instead, hands clasped in front of him.

It feels like for-freaking-ever, but the nurse comes out to get him, maybe twenty minutes later. 

“He’s asking for you,” she says. She isn’t smiling but she doesn’t look like she’d like to put a scalpel through Jordie’s eye anymore, so that’s a step up. “We need to get him into x-ray for the ribs and the back injury and he’s being non-compliant until he sees you. Maybe you can talk him into letting us get it over with.”

“Ribs? Back? What?” 

But they’re at the door by then.


	23. Pull back the curtain

Tyler closes his eyes in the car on the way to the address he gave Jordie, his head turned to the side like even the seat cushion is too hard on the back of his head. Jordie keeps the music off and the GPS turned low.

The complex he is directed to is older, nineteen-eighties style, two stories. It looks a lot like the motel his family stayed in on a road-trip once. The sidewalk goes to each door on the lower floor, but the upper has a shared balcony around the entire level, just one stair up on each side.

“We’re here.” The white noise of the engine leaves a void when he turns it off, his voice seeming oddly out of place in his own truck.

“Jor?”

“Yeah,” Jordie says. “I’m here. We’re at your babysitter’s place.”

Tyler lifts his head and blinks, orienting himself. He fumbles with the door handle but gets it open and himself on his feet before Jordie can get around to him.

“Second floor,” Tyler says. “When we get there, Mrs. Busari, she doesn’t like strange men at her door in the middle of the night.”

Jordie thinks it says something that Tyler remembers what someone doesn’t like while exhausted, concussed and covered in bruises. They get to the door that Jordie hopes is the right one, and Jordie steps back, tries, for the second time that night, to look unimposing and harmless.

Tyler taps on the door, and then waits. Long after Jordie has thought he should knock again, the chain on the other side rattles and slides and the door opens.

The woman on the other side is dark, her skin a stark contrast to the pastel blue of her scrubs. Her hair is wrapped in a multi-colored scarf, and she has white Crocs on her feet.

“You’re early tonight,” she says, her voice light. She freezes when she looks past Tyler and sees Jordie looming there.

Her gaze goes between them and her hand tightens on the door.

“I fell. At work. I got a concussion. This is my friend Jordie, he drove me to urgent care and then here. He’s gonna help me get Livvie home.”

Mrs. Busari makes a non-committal hum. “You should leave Livvie here. You should stay here until morning at the very least.”

“I couldn’t ask you to take a night off of work,” Tyler says, and Jordie can hear how tired he is, how much this conversation is taking out of him.

“I’ll stay with him,” Jordie says. “Livvie knows me and I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Jordie, you…” Tyler trails off, loses the thread of his sentence.

“If you don’t want me there, I’ll go, but if you’re worried about imposing, I’m offering. I’d feel better if I could help than going home and worrying about you.”

Tyler bows his head, takes three breaths and Jordie thinks he might fall asleep on his feet if this takes too long.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Tyler, are you sure?” Mrs. Busari asks.

“Yeah. I. Jordie’s great. I trust him.”

She doesn’t look impressed, but she nods. “So. I will get Livvie. Wait here.”

She steps back and Tyler puts his foot over the threshold to keep the door from latching. Mrs. Busari comes back in moments, Livvie asleep against her chest.

“She didn’t eat much supper, so be ready for a storm if she wakes up and there’s no breakfast.”

Tyler reaches and lays a hand on Livvie’s head. Mrs. Busari hesitates and then nods Jordie over. She lays Livvie carefully into his arms, tucks the little ladybug blanket around her shoulders.

“Take care of them.” It sounds like an order.

“Yes ma’am,” Jordie says. “Always. Ready, Tyler?”

Tyler grunts and stands a little straighter. “Yeah.”

“Thank you,” Jordie tells Mrs. Busari, because Tyler’s manners got knocked out of him.

Mrs. Busari nods at Jordie, like maybe they’re allies in this. Maybe.

Jordie turns and follows Tyler across the balcony that the doors open off of. Follows him to the stairs and then…past the stairs?

“Hey, are we not going down?”

“No.”

Tyler squints at the doors as they pass, finally finds the one he’s looking for and fumbles his keys out of his pocket. He manages to catch it in the lock and open the door, so he’s doing better at recognizing his own home. Jordie just…didn’t think about Tyler living at a place like this, tired and worn despite it being reasonably well-kept. Decidedly unfashionable. He always imagined Tyler somewhere upscale, a big open-plan kind of place with lots of light and a huge kitchen island.

This place is dark, the glow under the microwave the only light. It’s open plan, but only because the living room and kitchen seem to be crammed into the same area, a couch and a TV on one side, the cluttered kitchen on the other. It smells like hockey pads left out to dry. The ceiling feels low after the fourteen foot ceilings of Jamie’s place. Jordie’s place, now.

Tyler leads Jordie in, and there’s a blare of noise and a flash of light by Tyler’s feet as some kid’s toy tangles underfoot. He staggers and sways and Jordie has a swoop in his stomach at the thought of Tyler going down and Jordie not being able to catch him because he’s carrying Livvie.

“Hey, watch your step,” Tyler says. He finds his equilibrium and Jordie’s heart rate recovers.

“Where should I lay Livvie down?”

Tyler grunts and leads him through. The bedroom is even tinier than the rest, a small toddler bed against one wall and a twin-size adult bed on the other, both of them disheveled and unmade, but it smells clean in here, like laundry detergent and baby products.

It’s not the kind of place that Jordie would have imagined Tyler living, but if you traded out the kid’s toys for beer and Gatorade bottles, it could be Jordie’s apartment when he played for the Grizzlies.

Jordie crouches and lays Livvie on her bed. She makes a sleepy sigh and rolls away from the dim light.

By the time Jordie is done tucking her in, Tyler is sprawled across his bed, one foot hanging out over the edge, his shoes and dress pants still on.

Jordie rolls him onto the middle of the narrow bed, pulls his shoes off and wakes him up enough to drink a glass of water.

He sees Tyler resettled, makes sure he’s resting as comfortably as modern chemistry can enable and then he goes out to the living room.

It’s weird, being in someone else’s space, not really invited, not prepared for or equipped for it. He doesn’t have any clothes, no toiletry bag, no charger for his phone, even. If he was home, he’d be tired enough to sleep. He doesn’t know where the spare blankets might be, or even if there _are_ any spare. The unfamiliar environment makes him restless.

He peeks back into the bedroom, where Tyler and Livvie are still sleeping soundly, and then he gently pulls the door almost-closed.

He’s here; he might as well make himself useful, and there’s plenty that needs doing.

============

Tyler wakes to darkness and quiet. The white-noise thunderstorm app that him and Livvie sleep to is silent. He doesn’t know where his phone even is.

She’s not in bed with him, which is unusual enough. He looks across to hers in the dim glow of the night-light. It’s empty, the sheet half on the floor.

He. Fuck. He remembers Mrs. Busari frowning at him. Bringing Livvie out to him like she used to when he was a stranger, someone who was not yet welcome to the hospitality of her home.

Did he pick Livvie up drunk?

He gets out of bed. He doesn’t feel good, his head sore and his entire body achy, but he has to find her. Maybe she just went out to play with her toys. In the middle of the night.

Maybe he left the front door unlocked. Maybe she wandered off. Maybe someone came in and took her.

“Livvie!?” He can hear the frantic edge to his voice. As much as he always tries to make her feel safe by keeping himself calm, the fear is slipping through.

He staggers to the bedroom door and looks out.

Jordie is laying across the couch, his head and shoulders propped uncomfortably by the arm and the throw pillow. Livvie is starfished out on his chest, the ladybug blanket draped over her.

Tyler doesn’t know if Jordie was awake before he came out yelling or not, but he is now, eyes wide. He puts his arms around Livvie and sits up, keeping her supported close to his chest.

“You okay?” Jordie asks, soft.

Tyler’s head is a dull throb.

“Yeah. I. Couldn’t find her.”

Jordie carries her to Tyler, lets him touch the fine strands of her hair, smell the baby-shampoo that Mrs. Busari uses for her baths.

Livvie stirs, a grumpy whine accompanying a noisy fart.

Jordie snickers, silent, and nods over to the toddler bed.

“Yeah,” Tyler says, even though he’d rather sit and hold her for another hour or so. He shouldn’t though, because he’s got a fucking concussion and he couldn’t live with the guilt if he dropped her because of it. Fucking shower-sex. Blacklisted.

Three loud booms from the front door break the quiet. Livvie startles in Jordie’s arms, eyes wide and awake. “Daddy?” she says, on the verge of tears. And shit, his balance is bad enough that he’s afraid to take her.

“Tyler! Are you in there?” the man outside pounds on the door again.

Tyler heads for the door instead. Fix this. Get whoever it is to leave so Livvie can sleep.

“Wait,” Jordie says, turns Tyler and sits him on the couch. Puts Livvie in his arms. “You know who that is?”

Tyler shakes his head. Regrets that right away. “No, I…”

He knows the voice, just can’t quite place it.

The man outside graduates to kicking the base of the door. At this rate, the police will be called and the one thing Tyler never wants is the police.

“I gotta.”

Jordie pats Livvie’s back. She clings to Tyler. It doesn’t take much to scare a three-year-old past words. Jordie strides to the door like a god damn superhero, throws the deadbolt and yanks the door open.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ty, y—” the man’s voice falters. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You’re the one knocking down the door at five AM,” Jordie counters. “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want.” It sounds more like “you better fucking leave” than an actual question.

Jordie shifts and Tyler gets a glimpse of the man. Oh.

“Jor. Jordie, it’s okay. It’s Ian. From work.”

Jordie looks back and forth between them like he’s trying to evaluate if Tyler is so brain-damaged that he shouldn’t be listened to. Eventually he decides Tyler’s in his right mind. He moves grudgingly to the side, gestures Ian in.

Ian skirts around Jordie and hustles across the room to crouch in front of Tyler.

“I’m. Is this. You want this guy here?” Ian asks.

“Yeah.” There’s a reason why not, why Jordie shouldn’t be here at the same time Ian is, but he can’t remember it right now. Doesn’t seem important. “But.” He glances meaningfully down at Livvie.

“Right. Right.”

“It’s okay, Livvie, you remember Ian,” he says softly, hugging her against him.

Jordie goes into the kitchen, gets a glass of water from the sink and some pills from a bottle.

“You uh, didn’t check in,” Ian says. “Your Kitestring called the office. We’ve been trying to track you down all night.”

Tyler frowns. “What?”

Jordie winces as he comes back from the kitchen. “That thing on your phone? That was beeping so I brought it to you?”

Tyler remembers the beeping. The volume button made it go away.

“I’m good,” Tyler says. “Sorry for the mix-up.” Shit, he’s gonna owe a lot of favors after this, everybody going crazy over nothing.

“Here,” Jordie says, and hands Tyler the pills. “Ibuprofen. The doc said you could take these with the ones he prescribed. Overlap the doses so your back doesn’t get so bad.”

He waits until Tyler tosses the pills into his mouth and then passes the water.

Ian glances to where Jordie is looming. “You saw a doctor? Good. That’s good. Marcus was…very apologetic. Said to give him the bills. To put a couple grand on his card to make up for lost work. Let him know if you need anything.”

“I’m good,” Tyler says again. “Jordie, can you help me get her back to bed?” Livvie is two seconds away from falling asleep on his shoulder.

Jordie bends and takes her, his big hands so gentle. “Yeah, I got her.”

Tyler wakes up horizontal and doesn’t remember falling asleep. Or, he kind of remembers Ian showing himself out, talking to Jordie at the door.

The room is dark except for the flickering of the TV. He squints at it. The subtitles are on, some home improvement show.

His pillow shifts. Before he can figure out how alarmed to be, a warm hand rests on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jordie.

“Yeah. I’m good.” His headache is better. Not painless, but better. His lower back hurts worse—just bruised, the doctor said, but it’s all kind of no-fun.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I really gotta piss.”

Jordie needs to get up and Tyler is laying on him.

“Shoot, yeah.” He levers himself up on one elbow, letting Jordie slip out from under him.

Jordie, saying goodbye to Ian. Ian coming here to make sure Tyler was okay.

It’s only an ingrained habit of not swearing in the apartment at all ever that keeps him from saying a very bad word, and the threat of the headache returning to full force that stops him from saying it at a very loud volume.

“Fuuudge,” he hisses to himself. “Shoot, dang.” This isn’t how he wanted Jordie to find out. He never had a plan for that at all, but this sure as hopscotch wasn’t it.

“Hey, hey hey,” Jordie says from up close, crouching beside the couch and holding Tyler’s upper arms. “Are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

Tyler doesn’t have anything left to lie with. No energy, no brain-power.

“Ian. He. When he came, I forgot you didn’t know.”

Jordie puts his hand on Tyler’s forehead like he’s expecting a fever.

“Didn’t know what? I don’t understand.”

“My work. That I don’t tend bar.”

“You uh, came to my house talking about work and swearing off shower sex.”

“I. I did?”

Jordie nods. Hesitates. “I uh, I knew before though? I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t bring it up.”

“Huh?” Tyler tries to remember when he could have slipped, at what point he fucked this one up. “Since when?”

Jordie rubs the back of his neck, looks guilty. “Between the first and second times I met you. I. Had no idea you didn’t know I knew.”

The knowing knews make Tyler’s head spin so he focuses on the first part of that. He tries to remember back that far. It wasn’t his first rodeo. He wouldn’t have said something like that to a client’s brother.

“Jamie told me,” Jordie says, dismayed. “After the grocery store. I can’t believe he told me without asking you if he could. He didn't even tell you after?”

Tyler closes his eyes. Jordie knew. This whole time, he knew. “Fug that snog of a blip,” Tyler swears. To out him to someone like that. To take that control over his situation away. To raise the number of people who know that Livvie’s dad and sex-for-sale Tyler are the same person to three, when it had only been Ian forever.

“Don’t hold back,” Jordie says, mirth in his voice. “Say how you really feel.”

Tyler opens his eyes. Jordie is still crouched by the couch. Jordie is still here. Still Tyler’s friend and Livvie’s friend. Tyler’s vision blurs, his nose prickles. Oh fudge, he’s crying, shit.

“Oh, no, hey.” Jordie frowns with concern. “Are you hurting?”

“No.” The word comes out as a croak.

“You’re okay,” Jordie soothes, his hand rubbing Tyler’s upper back. “You’re okay. It’s just the concussion fucking you up. We’re good, and if you want to talk about it when you’re better, we can.”

Jordie stays there, rubs his arm until Tyler is down to sniffles. Jordie’s knees pop when he stands up but he doesn’t complain. He goes away for a minute, comes back with a roll of toilet paper and an empty grocery bag.

“Here, wipe your face and blow your nose.” He helps Tyler sit up, looks away as Tyler cleans himself up and then holds the bag out for Tyler to drop the tissue into. He sits down at the edge of the couch, and Tyler twists a little to see him.

“Better?”

Tyler nods. Carefully. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m.”

He has no idea what he was going to say.

“Did you clean my house?”

The place isn’t sparkling, but the amount of visual clutter is notably lower. The countertop is cleared, the boxes of cereal presumably put back into the cabinets, the dish drainer full of clean dishes, Livvie’s toys stacked into one corner.

Jordie rubs the back of his neck, looks shifty. “Uh, yeah? Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says.

“You should go back to sleep. You wanna move back to your bed?”

“No. Can you. Can you sit back where you were?”

Jordie’s smile is kind.

“Yeah, Ty, of course.”

Tyler sits up enough to let Jordie scoot back into position.

Jordie has seen all the parts of him that other people wouldn’t want to. That he does sex work. That his house is a mess. That he’s clingy and needy when he doesn’t feel good.

Jordie has seen _Tyler_ and Jordie is still here.


	24. Summer fun

“Yeah, I’ll get you something, just hang on—daddy has to potty.”

Jordie sits up on the couch, rubs his face. He didn’t have any sleeping clothes to wear, and he didn’t feel right stripping to his underwear, so he’s still in the jeans he’d been wearing when Tyler stumbled to his door and the t-shirt he’d pulled on for the visit to urgent-care.

The door to the bedroom is still half-open. Tyler hadn’t closed it when he had eventually wandered back to bed, and Jordie had felt better without it between him and them so he’d left it like that. Livvie comes out, dragging her blanket along behind her. She’s still wearing the night dress that Mrs. Busari put her in.

“I get M&Ms,” she tells Jordie.

“Oh, really?”

“Because my pull-ups are dry..”

Jordie smiles. “I’m just gonna wait for your dad to confirm that, okay? You want to help find breakfast while we wait for him?”

He stands up and offers her his hand. Hers is so tiny in his grip, soft skin and fragile little bones.

He opens the fridge. It’s a barren wasteland, just a few things on otherwise empty shelves. He’s pretty sure the cereal he’d put away the night before hasn’t gone stale. Hmm, what else…

“So we got…eggs?” The use-by date gives them another two weeks.

“Eww.”

He reaches for the half-gallon of milk, but it’s too light when he picks it up, empty. Ugh, Tyler.

“No milk— maybe French toast?” There’s a loaf of ‘white wheat’ that is close enough to the front of the shelf that he hopes it was put there recently.

“Jordie, I can’t see,” she says, his a hint of a whine in her voice. He crouches down and opens his arm and she tucks in against his hip so he can lift her.

Together, they gaze into the fridge.

“I want the ham.”

Jordie sees what she’s pointing at, flips the package of lunch meat over.

“There’s only turkey.”

“MmHmm, the turkey ham.”

“On a sandwich?”

She shakes her head. He pulls down a plate and sits her on the counter while he gets some turkey slices out for her.

“Hey.”

Tyler is sleep-rumpled and still achy-looking.

“Hey,” Jordie answers. He pushes the bottle of painkillers over.

“Two of those now, if you’re ready for them.”

“Yeah.” Tyler gets a cup of water from the sink and takes them.

“How you feeling?” Jordie hates when he’s hurt and someone keeps asking that, but he can’t help himself.

“Like a line-backer fell on me,” Tyler answers with a snort of humor.

Jordie raises an eyebrow and Tyler gives a wry shrug.

“Livvie said she gets M&Ms?”

“Just one,” Tyler says as he holds up three fingers out of Livvie’s line of sight.

“M&Ms!” Livvie says and points to the top of the fridge. Tyler gets the bag and passes it over.

“Here you go, as promised,” Jordie says, and pours three into her little hand.

“Breakfast?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah. I was just getting her some ‘ham’ and then I’ll make us something. Eggs or French toast?”

“Toast would be good.”

“You should go lay down,” Jordie says. “I’ll come get you when it’s done.”

Tyler hesitates.

“Go ahead. Livvie’s gonna help me cook, right?”

“MmHmm.”

Tyler’s shoulders sag like he can finally let go of a weight that’s been dragging him down. “Thanks. Yeah. Just get me when it’s ready, or when you need to leave.”

“Yeah, will-do. Hey, what time does Mrs. Busari usually take Livvie?”

========

Jordie plugs his phone in as soon as he walks in the door. He’s just grabbing some clothes and toiletries while Mrs. Busari sits with Tyler and Livvie, but he’d like to check messages at least, before he drives back to Tyler’s place.

He opens the door to his room and his stomach sinks. His suitcase is on the bed, ready to go. Packed for the trip home. His trip home _today_. That he has missed. Shit. Shit shit shit.

The phone is charged enough to turn on when he picks it up, but the short tether of the cord keeps him from pacing. Confused messages pile up in the received file, each one more worried than the last. He hits dial on the most recent.

“Jordie?”

He hates hearing Mom’s voice cautious like that.

“Yeah Mom, I—”

“Phillip Jordan Ellis Benn, you better have a good reason for not texting me back. How am I supposed to know when to pick you up without your flight number?”

“I uh. About that. I’m. Not on my flight?” He cringes in anticipation of her response.

“What? Jordie, are you okay? What happened? You’re not calling from the hospital are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that, honest. A friend of mine took a concussion yesterday. I got him to a doctor and then sat with him and his kid overnight. I didn’t have a charger for my phone with me.”

“Oh,” Mom says. It feels like high-school all over again. _I didn’t want to leave the girls to walk home alone_ and _My buddy cut his hand changing a tire, I had to help him get cleaned up_ and _The time-keeper’s car wouldn’t start after the game so I stayed to jump it._ Just about any breaking of curfew could be explained and forgiven if he was helping someone else.

“I was thinking I’d stay here a few days. Make sure he gets a chance to sleep it off without Livvie going non-stop.”

Mom hums. “Does he have a sleep mask? You should stop and get him one if he doesn’t. And maybe the noise-canceling headphones, so small sounds don’t wake him up.”

Jordie smiles. Explosion averted. He’d wanted a chance to see his parents before Jamie came back. Hopefully his playoff run will last long enough that Jordie still can, but if not, it’s not that big of a deal.

“Thanks Mom. I’ll see how he’s doing in a few days and buy new tickets then.”

“You’re still coming up this summer, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Well. Go take care of your friend. And call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Jordie promises.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

They hang up and Jordie finishes grabbing things to take to Tyler’s. He can’t think of a better way to take care of Tyler than to make a big pot of chicken soup. A concussion isn’t a cold, but the comfort factor is the same. He gets his biggest stock pot—he doesn’t think Tyler even owns a pot, and packs a bag of frozen chicken and the rest of the ingredients he’ll need into it. Maybe he should stop at the grocery store on the way back. Tyler’s fridge had been a sad sad place where Go-gurts go to die.

 

=========

 

“I still wish you'd let me drive you to the airport.”

Jordie folds the last of his clothes, still warm from Tyler’s little mini-dryer, and puts them in his suitcase. He’s been practically living at Tyler’s apartment for the last week, watching Livvie when Mrs. Busari or her pre-school didn’t have her. Making sure Tyler ate and rested and watching as he slowly got better.

Jordie’s stuff had migrated over—clothes and his toiletry bag, soft towels (there’s a My Little Pony and a rainbow towel that Livvie uses, and all the rest are like sandpaper). Half his kitchen is at Tyler’s now, Jordie’s favorite pillow and the comforter off of his bed bunched up on Tyler’s couch.

On day three, Tyler had figured out that Jordie should have gone home already. On day five, he’d insisted Jordie get a ticket, and Tyler had seemed better enough that Jordie didn’t really have a reason to fight him on it.

But like hell will he let Tyler drive him to the airport.

“It’s stupid-far, and it’ll be morning rush-hour, and the sun will be in your eyes the entire drive back.” He pauses as Tyler glances away. It’s tempting to offer to stay a few more days, but Tyler wouldn’t be fighting to drive if he wasn’t capable of it. He says he’s still got some headache—not planning on going back to work for another week at least, but all his other symptoms are gone.

“I just feel like I owe you,” Tyler mutters.

“For what? Are you saying you wouldn’t do the same if you were on vacation and I got hurt in a game?”

“No, I’m not saying that.”

“Letting somebody do something nice doesn’t put you in debt,” Jordie says, and hopes Tyler understands it.

“Yeah, okay. How about I take you out when you get back, though. Dinner or something?”

Jordie shrugs. “If you want to. You could make that grilled cheese you made last time though, and I’d be just as happy.”

Tyler snorts. “Yeah, okay, if that’s how you want it.”

Something went wrong at the words--Tyler winces as soon as they’re out of his mouth, looks away.

“You uh, you find all your stuff?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah,” Jordie says, but he’s running the conversation back. _How you want it_. He wonders if it’s a work thing, something he’s said with clients. Maybe said to Jamie when Jamie was ‘just as happy’ about one option over another.

Jordie cuts that line of thought off. He does not want to imagine any kind of scenario where that could have been said. He doesn’t have to know where Tyler used those words or what they mean to him to try to avoid them in the future.

“I’m gonna run a load down,” Jordie says. He can’t leave his shit in Tyler’s way for the entire summer, and he can’t leave his truck here for that long either. It makes sense to go home and get a good night’s sleep before he takes an Uber to his early-morning flight.

Tyler reaches for the suitcase handle.

“Don’t you dare,” Jordie warns, and Tyler scoffs.

“I can carry a suitcase.”

Jordie has maybe been reading scientific articles on concussion recovery while Livvie plays. Light exercise, as long as it doesn’t make symptoms worse, is completely fine. Supposedly.

“Take the pillow and blanket,” Jordie grumps.

Tyler shakes his head but he does as he’s told.

“Text me when you get home safe?”

If the plane goes down, Tyler’ll hear about it on the news, but Jordie promises.

Tyler hovers as Jordie puts his stuff in the truck. When Jordie steps back and closes the door, Tyler’s hands twitch up just a hair.

“Don’t suppose I could get a hug for the road,” Jordie says, and the way Tyler sinks with relief tells him it was the right call, making it easy for Tyler to lean in. Jordie wraps his arms around Tyler’s shoulders and holds for a couple seconds. Tyler is just a few inches less-tall than Jordie, his arms strong and warm. Jordie lets him go again.

“Thanks,” Tyler says. He steps back to the sidewalk and watches until Jordie backs out of the parking space.

=============

Jordie asks for the hug, and Tyler tells himself that that makes it okay, that Jordie wants it just as much as he does, even if Tyler’s want is not entirely platonic.

Tyler understands crushes. What he felt for Alyssa, back before he really knew her. The way he reacted when Jamie had acted like he was all-in. The way Tyler had felt about Ian when they first met. That one client with the deep voice and big hands. It happens, even over the course of a couple two-hour appointments, it happens.

A week of recovering from a concussion, emotionally fragile and in some degree of pain, it only makes sense that Tyler would have a crush on the person taking care of him. Especially when that person is warm and solid and kind. Tyler thought he’d known what nice was—Jamie’s big birthday surprise. The apartment full of candles on their Valentines day.

Jamie had been performing romance like Tyler performs desire. For a little while they’d fooled each other.

Jordie isn’t like that. Jordie is the person who is there when Tyler needs him, even when it’s not fun or sexy. Cooking food for him after a game, making Livvie’s favorites, playing ponies with her while Tyler slept off the concussion. Cleaning his damn apartment.

It would be so easy to make Jordie be more. Tyler knows how to use his body. How to lay an invitation with a glance. Even if Jordie is only a little bi, it would be easy to draw him in, wind him up. Tyler could probably even make it seem like Jordie’s own idea, keep it subtle enough that Jordie didn’t know that Tyler was leading him around.

But that would be a shitty, shitty thing to do to a friend. To push their relationship in that direction when Jordie hasn’t given any indication that he’d want it to go that way. To use Jordie’s big heart against him.

“Thanks,” Tyler says as he steps back, watches Jordie gather his luggage and head for the door.

“Thanks,” he whispers when Jordie is gone. He’s not sure what he’s more grateful for—that Jordie asks nothing of him, or that Jordie sees him, or that Jordie gives so much warmth just by being in his life.

To keep all that, Tyler can squelch this crush.

========

Tyler follows Ian through Chipotle, his tray with his burrito bowl and Diet Coke in his hands.

Ian gives him the time to sit and get his straw in the drink, and then “So. Jordie with the jawline.”

Busted. Tyler looks up at him. Wonders if he could stuff his mouth so full he wouldn’t have to talk about this.

“He uh, he’s a friend.”

Ian looks unimpressed.

“I hadn’t heard about him. I thought I knew everybody you liked enough to let them be around Livvie.”

“It’s complicated.”

Shit. If he wanted Ian to be on this like a cat on string, those were the words.

Tyler takes a breath. Fuck.

“It’s covered by the NDA.”

Ian’s eyes narrow.

“He’s a _client_?!” he hisses. “You brought a _client_ home? Shit Tyler, seriously?”

“No!” Tyler’s not sure why the idea of Jordie hiring him is so offensive. He’s not ashamed of who he is or what he does, and he likes most of his clients. It’s just so counter to who Jordie is, so far from the truth.

“He uh, fuck.” Tyler rubs his temples and Ian shoots him an apologetic look. Tyler could totally milk the concussion thing.

“His brother was a client. And we were. Dating, I guess.”

“You were letting him fuck you for free,” Ian corrects. “I taught you better than that, Ty.”

Tyler groans and can’t argue with it.

“Yeah. I. It was right after Mr. Carson beat the shit out of me. I just. Jamie was acting like he cared about me. He threw this crazy birthday party-thing for me at the rink I like. I just. Needed to feel special. Like somebody liked me.”

“Did you?”

Ian already knows the answer.

“No.”

“And now Jordie?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“He’s a friend. He. He does like this home-cooked dinner for Livvie and me every week, and he’s really good with her. When I hit my head, I ended up at his place. I don’t even know how, but I went to him.”

Ian looks thoughtful, which is a step up from the ‘you fucked up’ expression he’d had a moment before.

“I like him,” Tyler admits. “I like him too much to fuck it up with sex.”

Ian nods. “I get it. Just. Be careful, okay? That kind of history…”

“Yeah. I know. I am.”


	25. Birthday surprise

“No, no, don’t get the lean. For a hamburger to have flavor, it has to have grease to cook in.”

Jordie raises an eyebrow dubiously, but Mom seems sure about it, and nobody ever leaves her table and stops at a fast food place on the way home, so she must know more than him.

“Jordie?”

Jordie follows the voice to its source and he smiles. “Melissa!” They’d gone to high school together. They hadn’t been close, but she’d been nice enough, back when he was just another boy playing hockey, dreaming of the NHL.

“My gosh, you’re looking good,” Melissa says, and then blushes.

“I’m going to go pick out some produce,” Mom says, waggling her eyebrows at Jordie. She takes the cart with her, which leaves him nothing to do with his hands.

“You too,” he says. “How’ve you been?”

‘How’ve you been’ leads to ‘lets talk over coffee.’ Jordie finds Mom on their way out of the grocery store, tells her he’ll get home on his own.

“Be safe,” she tells him and he laughs.

“It’s just coffee!”

Coffee with Melissa is fun. Easy. They make a plan for drinks that weekend and that leads to a boat-trip on the lake, an afternoon hike, a movie and dinner.

They have sex at her place, a cute little artsy cottage in the hills, and after, she says “It’s okay that this is just like a summer thing, right?”

She’s nice and he likes her, but he doesn’t feel that spark to be near her as often as he can, to spend his time thinking of things she’d like.

He hasn’t cooked for her.

Huh.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and she tucks in against his chest and they nap until it’s time for him to head home.

===========

“I’m just worried nobody’ll come,” Tyler says. Whines. It’s pretty pathetic.

“You invited the kids from her class, and the Busaris. I think you’ve done what you can,” Jordie says.

“I know, I know. I just. Her grandparents are throwing her a party too, on their weekend. She probably won’t even remember mine.”

“Hey,” Jordie says, soft. It’s late in Dallas, getting late even in Saanich. He does the math and it’s after midnight where Tyler is. Jordie stares up at the ceiling of his childhood room. “It’s hard being the full-time parent and not the fun-weekend parent. You’re doing a good job. Livvie is gonna have fun at both parties, and that’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah,” Tyler sighs. “I know I’m stressing myself out, but she was too little to care last year, and she’s excited about it this time. I don’t even think the Hudsons think it’s a competition. They just. Shower her with gifts and clothes and taking her places and I can’t keep up.”

“I’m sure she’ll have plenty of kids come to your party, and where are her grandparents going to get a bunch of her friends from? That’s what really matters.”

“Thanks,” Tyler whispers, and Jordie wishes there was something he could do, some way he could help this party be a success. “She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” Jordie says. The words are casual, but the pang in his chest that follows is very real. He misses her. He misses Tyler.

============

Jordie scrolls through Amazon’s selection of stuffed animals. Why the hell aren’t there any My Little Pony things that are big? Like “fuck the grandparents, let Tyler be the star” big?

He widens the search, looks at teddy bears and they’re all kind of blah. Generic. He wants big. Unique. Fun.

The thumbnail is a woman holding a stuffed moose that’s three quarters her size. It’s not brightly colored, but it has broad antlers and long gangly legs and what Jordie feels is an adoring expression on its face.

He orders it and pays the extra for overnight shipping and gets it sent to his apartment in Dallas.

========

Tyler’s smile gets wider and wider as more kids show up to the McDonald’s where Livvie is having her party. The tables are decorated with balloons and the cake Tyler brought from the grocery store is sitting on the one that’s also covered in presents. Only five had RSVPed, but there are a dozen already here. He’s just glad the cake with the decoration Livvie wanted looked best in the big size because otherwise he might not have enough.

Mrs. Busari is helping him keep the chaos contained, greeting parents when there are too many for Tyler to say hi to at once, asking the names of their children.

Livvie is up in the Play Place tunnels somewhere, but Tyler can hear her happy shrieks, so that’s okay.

Through the glass wall to the main dining room, Tyler sees The Moose come in. The Moose is huge. The Moose is so big he can’t even see the person carrying it. They don’t seem to be accompanied by a small child though, and Ian already said he can’t make it. Tyler watches to see if maybe they’re here for the Big Mac? But they don’t stop at the counter, coming around to the kid’s area.

Livvie’s little hand slips into his, and half the kids are on the floor, watching. Livvie draws in a gasp of wonder.

“Jordie!” she screams and The Moose moves to the side.

“Hi, Livvie,” Jordie says in a silly voice, moving The Moose’s front leg so it waves at her.

“Oh. My. Frog,” Tyler says, shaking his head.

Jordie peeks around The Moose at him, hesitant like he isn’t sure if he’s overstepped.

Tyler smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “Jordie, I can’t believe you’re here!”

Livvie jumps for The Moose and Jordie lets her hold onto it, but he keeps a grip to keep it from being dragged across the play-room tile.

“I couldn’t miss my best girl’s birthday,” Jordie says.

“I can’t believe this,” Tyler says again. Wonders how much of Jordie showing up was wanting to please Livvie and how much was to soothe Tyler’s worries that he was a shitty dad throwing her a shitty birthday.

Jordie reaches out and squeezes Tyler’s arm on the way past to the presents table.

“Wow, look at this cake!” he gushes, distracting Livvie and half the party, and Tyler has a second to take a breath and make his face stop doing whatever it’s doing.

The McDonald’s party-lackey gets the kids’ attention and gets them all to sit. Another employee brings a tray of icecream cups. The song is sung, barely. Most of the kids are between three and four, and they don’t have much of an attention span on a good day, less so on one as stimulating as this. The row of four candles is blown out and Tyler can’t believe it, four years. It feels like just a couple days ago he was holding a squalling infant; it feels like he’s been caring for her for half his life, both at the same time.

Jordie makes his way through the parents standing around taking pictures and bumps Tyler’s arm.

“See? I knew it would be great.”

Tyler smiles. It feels like a whole lot of fuss over nothing now. Livvie is happy, covered in icing, Rarity purple smeared over her cheek and in her hair.

“Thanks. You were right, but thanks for coming.”

“Glad it wasn’t stepping on your toes,” Jordie says.

“Never.”

=========

Jordie carries load after load of presents to Tyler’s car. Livvie has gone through happy and into manic, too tired to self-regulate, too awake to settle down.

“I wanna open them now!” she howls. Tyler’s glad most of the parents have already left and the few that haven’t yet are heading for the door as soon as they can get their kids’ shoes on.

“I know you do. When we get home, baby.”

Jordie comes back in, gets the last big bag of gifts and the box the cake came in.

“We all set?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, and picks Livvie up. She wriggles around and doesn’t want to go into her seat but she doesn’t fight it.

“What’s your plan for the day?” he asks Jordie.

Jordie shrugs. “Not much. Maybe see if some of the guys are in town, but I doubt it. Get a good night’s sleep before I fly out tomorrow.”

Tyler pauses on his way to his car door.

“You flew to Texas to come to a four-year-old’s birthday, just to turn around and fly back when it’s over?”

Jordie rubs the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds weird.”

“No,” Tyler’s in a hurry to say. “I just. I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe anybody’d do that.”

Jordie shrugs. “What are friends for?”

Tyler is swamped by a wave of fondness. The crush that’s been building since his concussion is growing to ridiculous proportions.

“Want to come watch a movie or something after I put her down for her nap? She’ll probably fall asleep on the ride over.”

“Sure, if it’s not a bother.”

===========

Jordie is back home, lying by the lake when the text comes:

 **Tyler:**  
_They had a pony_  
_And a princess_  
 _She still likes the moose best_


	26. Catching up

“Have you met anybody up in Detroit?” Mom asks, and Jamie’s fork freezes on the way to his mouth. 

“Uh, not really? I was only there a month…”

Not really is not a no, and Jordie raises an inquiring eyebrow when Mom looks away.

Jamie shakes his head. He probably means it as ‘don’t ask about this’ but Jordie chooses to interpret it as ‘later.’

=======

Jamie goes and hides in the back yard after dinner. Not really hides, because he sits on the stairs at the edge of the deck and looks out into the darkened lot. It’s a nice yard—their parents have lived there since Jordie was twelve. Jamie offered to buy them a new house, with his first big contract, but they’d turned him down.

Jordie brings a beer as a peace offering. Hands it to Jamie and sits down, leaning against the other banister. 

He gives Jamie time to take a few sips and then says “So, you met somebody?”

Jamie shrugs. “Maybe? I dunno. We’re hooking up. He’s with the franchise, so we can’t do much.”

“Ugh,” Jordie says. “Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah. It’s just a hockey thing, I guess. Whatever you’d call a puck bunny that’s a dude.”

Jordie smiles at the mental image of some guy dressed in the skimpy strings some of the women show up in. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he checks it. 

The picture is of The Moose, sprawled out on Livvie’s bed with Livvie sound asleep on top of it.

He smiles and texts:  
 _Such a shame she hates my gift._

Tyler sends back a line of LOLs.

Jamie is looking at him when he puts the phone away.

“Yeah?” he asks, and Jordie shrugs. Jamie had been so weird, back when they first split, that he doesn’t want to ruin a good night by bringing him up.

“Just a friend.”

“Yeah right. You should look in the mirror when you say that. Work on your lies. So what’s her name?”

Jordie shakes his head but Jamie’s right about the smile.

“Some of us have friends, Jamison. It happens when you’re not such a dick.”

Jamie snorts. 

The pic is just too cute not to share though, and Jordie holds it over.

Jamie does the dumb-face as he tries to figure out what he’s looking at, trying to make the moose’s long legs and antlers and the little girl sleeping against it make sense. He jerks and frowns when it hits him what this is, _who_ this is. 

“Is that Tyler’s kid?”

Jordie shrugs. “Yeah. I got her the moose for her birthday.”

“You and him are friends now?” Jamie sounds hurt, confused. 

“Tyler and I were friends even before you got traded,” Jordie reminds him, calm and steady.

Jamie stands, abrupt, like he’s pissed off but doesn’t know what to do about it. Turns and goes back into the house.

Jordie stares after him. “Well that could have gone better,” he mutters to himself.

By breakfast the next day, Jamie is himself again. 

Jordie decides to keep any more news or pics from Tyler to himself from now on.

 

==============

“Oh yeah, take it. You look so good like that,” Tyler says, thrusting into his client’s mouth, hands tangling in his hair. The man whimpers and moans. 

“Yeah. So pretty for me. You are so hot.”

Tyler blinks, a moment of disconnect so sudden he thinks _concussion_ but it’s been weeks since he’s had symptoms. He tries to remember what he said last, but he didn’t care enough to pay attention to the words coming out of his own mouth.

“Fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah,” Tyler tries, filling the time. That doesn’t seem repetitious at all.

The guy comes in his pants and Tyler thrusts twice more into his mouth before he makes orgasm noises and pulls out. 

“Thank you. Oh fuck, thank you,” the client gasps. 

Tyler leans down and pats his cheek, not exactly gentle but not a slap either. 

“Good job, buddy..”

He leaves the client there on the floor while he goes and gets the condom off, cleans himself up. 

“Next time,” he says at the door with the slightest backward glance. It’s the fantasy the dude’s paying for, being the fuck-toy of the cool guy.

He leaves, and it strikes him how fucking _boring_ that had been. He replays the appointment on the way downstairs and winces at himself. He can see half a dozen moments he could have made it better, made it perfect for a regular. He could have gone a little more back-handed on the compliments, could have drawn it out another thirty seconds at least. A couple months ago he would have managed to come in the guy’s mouth—now he’s glad there was a condom so he could fake it.

He’s phoning it in, and he doesn’t like it. It’s not safe, to assume he knows how men are reacting without actually paying attention. It’s not a way to keep a good rep with the agency either. He’ll be surprised if the client asks for him again, and sure as hell won’t if Tyler gives such a shitty performance next time.

A text comes up on his phone as he gets into Ibrahim’s cab. 

**Ian:**   
_Happy anniversary baby!_

Tyler laughs out loud, despite his shitty mood.

**Tyler:**   
_You too._

**Ian:**   
_Whatcha doing?_

**Tyler:**   
_Right now?_

**Ian:**   
_Yeah_

**Tyler:**   
_Leaving work_

**Ian:**   
_Mine left and left me the room._  
Wanna come celebrate?  
For old times sake? 

Tyler laughs again. One year does not an ‘old time’ make, but what the hell. 

**Tyler:**   
_Yeah sure  
What hotel and room?_

“Hey, Ibrahim, change of plans.”

==========

Ian’s watching TV in his underwear when Tyler gets there, a spread of room service meals around him. Ian’s too smart to take liberties that would hurt repeat business, so the client must be into it, ‘taking care’ of Ian even after he leaves. Tyler’s had a few of those before.

He ignores the memory that’s trying to surface, Jamie offering to take care of him and Livvie. Fuck that guy.

“Hi,” Ian says, gives Tyler his patented ‘oh god I might be in love with you’ gaze. 

Tyler snickers and drops onto the bed, making the dishes rattle. 

“I want you to know you’re ridiculous,” Tyler says and Ian drops the act. 

“I’m willing to be if it makes my friends smile.” He leans in, mock-serious again. Brushes his lips slow and teasing against Tyler’s.

Tyler kisses back, runs a hand down Ian’s side. 

“Yeah,” Ian breathes against his lips. 

They kiss, Tyler searching for Ian’s lead, to go harder or softer, to ramp the passion up or take it slow. Neither has their eyes closed.

Ian grazes his teeth over Tyler’s mouth, and he doesn’t know if it’s an invitation to bite back or moan in surrender. There’s no client to play to, nothing to guide him.

Ian leans in just as Tyler’s leaning in and their faces smush together in a way that’s decidedly not sexy.

Tyler pulls back, laughing and shaking his head. 

Ian pouts. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler says and lays down next to him. 

Tyler puts his arm under his head like a pillow, lays on his side, looking up as Ian looks down. 

“I fucked up today,” Tyler says, and Ian frowns. 

“You okay? What happened?”

“Nothing bad. I don’t even know if the client noticed.” Or maybe he’s into getting shitty play from a sex worker he’s paying a ridiculous amount to. Another layer of meta over the fantasy.

“I just. You know how when you’re driving late at night, on a road you’ve been down a hundred times, you blink and realize you’ve passed like six exits?”

Ian lays down next to him, their faces a few inches apart. “Yeah?”

“I was fucking his face, and I was like ‘Wait a minute. What was I just saying?’”

Ian puts a hand on Tyler’s hip, rubs lightly. 

“You ever take some time off?” Tyler asks.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I never will, or that it’s wrong if you want to. You’re not spending your money on drugs or cars; you’ve got to have a pretty good chunk saved away.”

“I had a two year plan,” Tyler says. Not sure if he’s trying to talk himself into a hiatus or out of one. “I. There’s a private school. Livvie is so smart. She’s so bright. I just want her to have the best, and while she’s doing that, I was gonna go to school too. Just community college or something, but. Something where I can make a living.”

Ian sighs, and when he talks again, his voice is careful.

“I am totally not trying to shit on your dream here,” he starts, and Tyler listens. “I know Texas schools, in general, average kind of blah whenever they get evaluated. But that doesn’t mean there are no good schools or good districts in the state. Get her into a public school in north Dallas, or Richardson, or Plano. My sister teaches, and her kids all go to public school.”

It’s kind of a hard idea to process. That he doesn’t have to work as hard or as long. That he can reduce his projected expenses by eighteen grand a year. 

“If you want, I can have Holly go over it with you. The actual pros and cons. You might have to move, but you’ve got another year, or two if you want to delay kindergarten, since her birthday is so close to the cutoff.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tyler promises. Maybe he can do like Ian suggests and see if he can take Holly out for coffee or something and get her take on it.

He needs to go to the bank, and see how much is there. Needs to run the numbers again.

He feels lighter though, knowing he has options, that if he’s getting burnt out he can take some time off, maybe tend actual bar for a while. 

“You gotta leave at three?” Ian asks. 

“Yeah.”

“You look tired. You wanna sleep here until then?”

“That sounds…really good.”

Ian gets up and moves the room service dishes to the desk. Tyler shakes the crumbs off of the covers and then turns down the bed. He strips down to his underwear and climbs in. Ian turns out the lights and joins him, warm skin against Tyler’s. 

“You wanna be big spoon or little one?” Ian whispers into the dark. 

“Little,” Tyler says, even though he’s taller and broader than Ian. 

“I got you,” Ian says, wrapping himself around Tyler’s back when Tyler turns on his side, tucks his knees in behind Tyler’s. 

Tyler sleeps, probably the best couple hours he’s gotten all week. 

=========

Tyler takes the last container of chicken noodle soup out of the fridge and dumps it into a bowl. It leaves the plastic with a *shlorp* sound and stands square in the middle of the dish. Tyler’s not sure what Jordie did to make it this way, but the noodles have kind of melted into the broth and congealed into a translucent jello when it’s cold.

He heats it up and stirs it around so it looks better, and then takes a picture with the empty storage container. 

**Tyler:**   
_Last one :(_

============

“Jordie, put the phone away. What’s so important that you can’t wait until after breakfast?”

Jordie smiles and shakes his head, but he does put it away.

“Friend of mine sent a funny picture.”

Mom narrows her eyes at him and he feels ten years old and hiding a frog behind his back again. 

“So this friend,” Mom asks with exaggerated nonchalance, “What’s her name?”

“Why does everybody keep asking that?”

Across the dinner table, Jamie is frowning.

==========

 

**Tyler:**   
_Hey Gina I’m gonna take it easy for a while_  
4star regulars only   
Until further notice 

That’ll cut his business in half, or more, and as times goes on the list will get shorter and shorter as clients move on to something or someone else, as one pisses him off enough to lose that fourth star. 

**Gina:**   
_Done_  
You okay  
? 

Tyler thinks about it. Is he? He thinks he is. He’s not sad or scared. 

**Tyler:**   
_Little burnt out_  
Gonna take it easy and see how it goes  
I’ll take doubles with ian too  
But yeah cutting back 

He thinks how much work he’s put into his body—the gym and trainers, his skin care regimen, the waxing. It seems only common sense that he puts the same work into keeping his mind and heart fit as well.

 

=========

It’s kind of dumb that Tyler is as bad at keeping his safety deposit box straight as he is his apartment. He’d usually been coming in the morning, between dropping Livvie off at preschool and taking himself back home to nap, and he hasn’t had a lot of patience with it, just stuffing whatever tips he’d gotten that night into the box with no concern for order.

It takes him a while, to sort it all out, to make neat piles of the different denominations. He adds it up. Despite missing work when he got hurt and again with the concussion, he’s pretty much on track for his two year plan. 

He puts all of the cash back and adds his tips from the last week of work. If he doesn’t put Livvie in the fancy school, or if he lets her grandparents pay for it if they want it, then he could live on this and a part-time job for four years, easy. 

He has options.


	27. Clue-by-four

Jordie loves his job and he loves his family. Going to one has meant leaving the other since he was in his teens. He’s familiar with the strange mix of feelings he gets—excitement to be heading back to hockey, melancholy to be leaving his home and his family again. It should be worse this year, with Jamie leaving for Detroit the same week Jordie heads back to Dallas.

It isn’t.

Even as much as he travels with the team, the trip from the island to Dallas is achingly long—changing to a bigger plane at SEA-TAC and a layover in San Francisco. Plenty of time to think. It’s not that he loves his family any less, it’s just. He’s looking forward to seeing Tyler again. He’s remembering the afternoon when he’d come down for Livvie’s birthday, sitting on Tyler’s couch, Tyler’s shoulder against his. 

Livvie had woken up from her nap and wandered out, sprawled herself across both of their laps and gone back to sleep. 

The pull of anticipation as he flies to Dallas isn’t just hockey this time. An image pops into his head. Him and Tyler on the couch with Livvie across them, and he turns his head and leans in the inch it takes and kisses Tyler’s temple. 

His chest fills with the feeling of rightness, like everything is clicking together. 

Oh. 

Oh shit. 

He wishes he could get up and pace, but even in first class, there’s not enough room for that.

He likes Tyler. He hasn’t been seriously attracted to a lot of guys. Enough that when Jamie came out to him he could say ‘yeah, me too—I’m bi’ but not enough that he’s ever wanted more than a handjob behind the gym back in high school. He might beat off to men’s fitness magazines, but it’s never been deeper than that. It’s never been enough of an attraction that he realized he was falling in love with his _best friend_ until it was too late. 

He’s fucked. He takes a breath and accepts himself as fucked and sets to figuring out what he’s gonna do about it.

He thinks how Tyler was, after Livvie’s party, how comfortable and easy he’d been against Jordie’s shoulder. How warm and soft and relaxed.

Fuck, does he even know Jordie’s bi? Was that why he felt safe enough to be so physical, thinking Jordie’s straight? 

He can’t. Can’t bring this up. Tyler’s had enough of guys getting their messy feelings all over him with Jamie. 

If Jordie brings it up, Tyler will either try to be that for Jordie, or he’ll run. Either idea makes Jordie feel sick. It would make Jordie a shitty friend to make Tyler deal with Jordie’s problem.

He tries to think of any way that keeping this to himself could hurt Tyler. Tyler seems to like their friendship. Seems to want Jordie around as his friend. 

He’ll just…make it easier by not bringing up this little realization.

They’ll be fine. Just keep on like they have been. 

The plane lands and Jordie’s phone pings with a message.

**Tyler:**   
_Leaving the house now_  
Bringing livvie  
Were playing hookie from her preschool 

**Jordie:**   
_We’re on the ground_  
Waiting to get off the plane  
See you soon  
Don’t text and drive 

He sends the door number his baggage claim will be closest to and goes to get that with the rest of the passengers. 

He doesn’t have to wait long once he gets to the curb. Tyler’s little silver sedan pulls up, Livvie craning her neck to look out the window. The glass and the noise of the airport drown out her voice, but he can read her lips calling his name and he waves to her. 

Tyler opens his door and gets out, running around to open the trunk for Jordie to toss his luggage into.

He smiles when Jordie’s hands are free.

“Good to have you back,” he says, and moves in for the hug.

Jordie hugs back, lets go first.

Not dumping his feelings in Tyler’s lap is gonna be harder than he thought.

=========

**Jordie:**   
_Does Livvie like dogs?_

**Tyler:**   
_Whyyyy?_

**Jordie:**   
_Answer the question_

**Tyler:**   
_If you get my kid a dog I will never forgive you_

**Jordie:**   
_He’s not for you  
Or her_

**Tyler:**   
_She likes dogs alright_

**Jordie:**   
_What about you?_  
Do you?  
Any worries about breed? 

**Tyler:**   
_Not a fan of small dogs with bad attitude_

**Jordie:**   
_Pits?_

**Tyler:**   
_Depends on the dog_

**Jordie:**   
_Want to meet him? They’re doing a home visit_  
Looking at my place and bringing the dog  
Friday at 3 

**Tyler:**   
_If you want us there  
It’s your dog_

**Jordie:**   
_I’m not getting a dog that scares livvie_  
Or that you  
Or that you can’t stand 

**Tyler:**   
_Yeah ok  
Fri at 3_

========

“Hey, sorry to show up early.”

Jordie opens the door for them and Livvie runs in.

“She’s kind of excited to come over, and to see a new puppy, so I thought it would be better to let her run off some of that energy.”

“Jordie where’s a dog? Can I pet him?”

Jordie crouches down.

“He’s coming over in a little while to meet you and your daddy. We need to be quiet and calm though, because he’s in a new scary place and he’ll be very nervous. Can you do that? Be calm so the puppy can be calm?”

She nods solemnly. Tyler walks around them into Jordie’s kitchen, a Wal-mart bag of Jordie’s plastic containers on his arm. 

“Can you come over when it’s time to brush teeth and do that?”

Jordie smiles. “You’re on your own, buddy.” Although he pretty much did when Tyler was concussed. 

Someone knocks on the door and all the work Jordie did to get Livvie settled goes out the window.

“Is that my puppy!” 

She runs to the door even though she can’t reach the deadbolt, trying to pull herself up by the knob.

“He’s here, he’s here!” 

Jordie scoops her up onto his hip. 

“Hey hey hey, easy.” He makes eye contact with her for a second. Models calmness. Tyler comes out of the kitchen but doesn’t reach for her so Jordie keeps her.

He opens the door and there’s the pair from the rescue place, a man and a woman—he’s very large and very black—she’s middle-aged, pale with bleach-blond hair and a lot of tattoos. 

“Alfred” is on a leash between them, tail wagging, prancing his feet in fear and anticipation. Jordie doesn’t know if he’ll remember him from the short meeting they’d had at the shelter, but he doesn’t rush or crowd the dog anyway. The website said he’s some kind of pit mix, probably hound or something in his bloodlines. He’s about half grown, still puppy-soft and big-footed. 

“Come on in,” he says, leading them in. “This is my friend Tyler, his daughter Livvie. We thought it should be unanimous before we made a forever-decision.”

The guy waves at Livvie and the woman makes a mark on her clipboard. 

“I’m Earl and this is Mayline,” the man says, introducing himself to Tyler. 

“Nice to meet you,” Tyler says, shaking his hand.

Mayline makes a mark on her clipboard.

Jordie sits on the couch and Tyler joins him. Livvie stands on the cushion between them, one hand on each of their shoulders. Earl moves forward, letting the dog sniff them. 

Jordie’s family has had dogs most of his life, and he likes the body language. Eager and friendly and only a little cautious, twisting like he’s ready to show his belly at the slightest provocation, but tail wagging wildly. Jordie holds out his hand to be sniffed and then licked. 

“Tyler, what’s your last name?” Mayline asks. 

“Huh?”

“For the background check. We’re just looking for any abuse against people or animals.”

“Oh.” His puzzlement dissolves. “It’s Seguin. It’s spelled like Say-geen the town.” And then he spells it out anyway. He gives his birth date when she asks. 

Jordie frowns. “Wait, are you gonna need a check on all of my friends?”

Mayline looks from Tyler to Jordie, to Livvie and back to Jordie. 

“Just the ones likely to live in the home.” 

Alfred huddles in against Jordie’s knees and he pets him absently. Livvie slides down between Jordie’s leg and Tyler’s and the dog licks her face.

Color rises on Tyler’s cheeks and his face drops with shock. 

“No, it’s. We’re not…” he gestures back and forth between himself and Jordie. “We’re not _like that_. Livvie and I don’t live here.”

Mayline hums and makes a mark on her clipboard.

If Jordie needed a sign that he’s doing the right thing by not telling Tyler about his unfortunate fixation, this is it right here, the vehemence of his reaction to the idea that they might be together.

“How about we go look at where you’re gonna walk this dog,” Earl cuts in, and Jordie takes the leash when it’s handed to him. 

“Hey Alfred, ready to go walk?”

“Why do you call him that.” 

Livvie’s voice is about as disapproving as a four year old can sound.

Tyler offers a hand to Livvie to hold so she doesn’t get lost in the crowd and they all head for the door.

“Alfred’s his name.”

“That’s not his name,” Livvie informs them all. Tyler’s mouth flattens as he tries to hide a laugh.

Earl shrugs “You can change it. The name is mostly for the website. We don’t train them to come to it or anything.”

“So what’s his name?” Jordie asks Livvie. They all pile into the elevator. Alfred tucks his tail under himself and cowers in the corner. 

Livvie thinks about it. “Bubble Wrap.”

A man can only be so strong. Jordie laughs and Tyler giggles. The other two smile. Mayline makes a mark on her clipboard.

“I dunno, Livvie. It wouldn’t be nice to name the dog after something you like to pop.”

She glares like she thinks they’re making fun of her.

“What else could we name him?” Tyler asks before she gets fully wound up.

She thinks again. The elevator stops at the ground floor and they get out. There’s an actual dog run on the side of the building, a long narrow fenced area with a sign that says “One dog at a time.”

There’s no grass in it though, and it probably smells like every dog in the building. The walk around the complex’s perimeter isn’t much better, but at least there’s grass to sniff and a less enclosed environment. 

“Pinky-Pie.”

“That’s kind of a pony name, baby.”

The currently-nameless dog sniffs and pees. 

“Juice.”

Jordie isn’t sure if the piss reminded her of apple juice, but it’s a name he can live with.

“That’s a great name. I like it. Juice. How ‘bout that, Juice?”

=========

 

Earl and Mayline take Juice back to the rescue—they’ll let Jordie know if he passed tomorrow. Tyler thinks they seemed pretty relaxed so he’s not too worried that him and Livvie being there fucked it up. 

Still, Jordie is off when the dog rescue people leave. 

“You guys want to go out to eat?” Jordie asks, and he doesn’t quite meet Tyler’s eyes as he does.

Tyler wants to apologize, if he sat too close or looked too adoringly at Jordie, if he gave Mayline the idea they were together. He wants to assure him that other closeted bisexuals have gay friends. That he’ll be more careful next time they’re around other people together. 

He wants to beg _please please please don’t disappear, please don’t stop being our friend, please don’t let this change anything._

He can’t say any of that with Livvie with him, bright and excited still about ‘her’ puppy. 

It’s late enough that Mrs. Busari could take Livvie. He could say he has to get to work. 

“Want to go get food with Jordie?” he asks Livvie and she nods very seriously. 

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “We’d love to.”


	28. Exploring options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Docbeeksi for the beta on ch 26-29

The outfit is new, despite looking like a certain section of Tyler’s ‘work’ clothes. Crisp white shirt, slim dark slacks. One of those little plastic things they put the price tags on with got missed somehow as he was taking the tags off and putting the shirt on. It’s sharp in his arm pit, but not sharp enough to dim his customer-service smile as he sits with the restaurant’s manager, Lydia.

“So tell me why you want to work at Abrea,” she says. The establishment in question is closed up and empty this time of day, the front end half-dark but the kitchen is already bustling with prep.

“Well, when I first started bartending, I worked in a sports bar, and then a club. I left there and worked for a catering company for a year.” The agency will totally have his back on that. Gina is waiting for the manager to call her.

“I was thinking that working a restaurant like this would be more stable than catering, and easier on my eardrums than going back to a club.”

He smiles and Lydia smiles back.

“And Abrea specifically?”

“I’ve been here as a guest before. It’s a well-run operation, your staff seem happy and it’s busy enough that I won’t have to worry about getting tips.”

A key turns in the front door and a little man lets himself in. He comes over, an open smile on his round face.

“How’s it going?” he asks Lydia.

“Good. Good. This is Tyler. He’s applying for Reese’s old job. Tyler, this is Walter. He owns the place.”

Tyler’s smile is perfect, not a flicker of surprise or recognition. He offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Walter shakes his hand and tips his head. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so…”

“No, I do.”

Well shit. It’s a good thing Tyler has resumes out at other places.

“You’re Ian’s friend, right?”

“Oh, oh yeah. That must be where you know me from.” He’s not sure where this is going, but as long as it doesn’t seem to be somewhere bad, he’ll follow the ex-client’s lead.

Tyler can’t see the look Walter gives Lydia, but her reaction seems positive.

“Well, come mix me some drinks, Tyler. Let’s see how you do.”

This part Tyler has been practicing. With less clients he’s had more time, and this he can do. This he’s good at.

“Send him to my office when you’re done with him,” Walter says, and heads on through the darkened restaurant.

Lydia leads him to the bar, flips on the lights. She gives him time to orient himself to where everything is and then she puts him through his paces, cocktail after cocktail. The few times he’s not sure of the ingredients, he’ll say it like it’s a question of taste. “With vodka or gin?” or “How much cherry juice do you like in it?”

She smiles like she knows exactly what he’s doing and totally approves.

When there are a dozen glasses lined up, each missing the one delicate sip she took of it, she says “Can you start Wednesday? Reese will still be here until his classes start, and he can show you the ropes.”

“Sure. I’d love to,” he says, but he’s already thinking ahead to going to Walter’s office.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll clock in and everything.”

He follows along, his smile feeling more and more forced. He’s not changing jobs just to do freebies for his new boss. Fuck that.

“Here’s Walter’s office—I’ll let you out the back when you’re done.”

Tyler takes a breath, fixes the damn tag thing on his shirt, and knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

He’s half-expecting the guy to be naked when he opens the door, but he’s just as fully clothed as he was a minute ago, squeezed into a tiny office behind a tiny desk, all of it crowded but scrupulously organized.

“Tyler,” he says and gestures to the chair across from him.

“I didn’t know you owned the place,” Tyler says. “I wouldn’t have applied for the job if…”

Walter waves him off. “No, no, don’t worry about it.”

“I will completely understand if you’d rather I take a job somewhere else.”

Walter shakes his head. “No, I trust you. The way you handled it when I came in. I’m not concerned.” He folds his hands in front of himself, leans forward a little. His voice drops. “The night Carl and I spent with you and Ian was really, really good for both of us and for our marriage. I owe you for that. I want to tell you that you’re welcome here, and that our relationship from here on out will be strictly restaurant-business if you take the job. For the sake of the night you gave Carl and I, I’m giving you one free pass. One fuck-up on the job that’ll get forgotten.”

Tyler nods, serious as Walter is. “Thank you, sir. I’ll try not to ever use that pass.”

Walter nods. “When’s your first day?”

“Wednesday.”

“I’ll see you then. Welcome aboard.”

=============

**Tyler:  
** _My turn to cook tomorrow  
Come over after pract?_

**Jordie:**  
_Sure_

Jordie sends the reply and then puts his head on the steering wheel of the truck. He feels off, thrown. He’s still in his suit. Not ‘again,’ but ‘still.’ A healthy scratch doesn’t change to their gear, doesn’t warm up with the team.

“Sit and watch and see where they’ll need you to be next game,” Ruff had told him, like it wasn’t a punishment, like it wasn’t because Jordie was fucking up.

A knock on the window by his head startles him and he looks up to see Fiddler miming at him to roll it down.

“You know nobody actually cranks their window like that anymore. Makes you look old, Fidds.”

“Well, signing this—” He points at the ground and then moves his finger to a slightly different position. “Is a little vague don’t you think?”

Fiddler leans on the edge of the door. It’s warm enough still in early October that Jordie doesn’t feel guilty not inviting him to sit in the cab.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jordie sighs. “Pissed at myself. I should have been better last game.”

Fiddler shrugs. “Maybe. But beating yourself up until you fuck up from nerves isn’t much good either.”

Jordie takes a breath and nods.

“I know. I know.”

Fidds thumps his shoulder. “Go home. Get some rest. Text that girl that makes you smile at your phone.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jordie mutters. Fiddler goes to his own car, and Jordie turns the key of his.

He goes home and walks Juice, and he’s so glad to have the pup with him, to have a reason to walk off the anger he’s feeling at himself. He feeds the dog and eats a plate of eggs, because that’s what he does after a game, and then he showers since he didn’t do it at the arena, and then he lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He’s gotta be better next game. He has to.

=========

Practice is brutal. Even without him on the ice to fuck up they’d lost the game because of a series of missed passes, miscommunication, getting in each other’s way. Jordie knows better than to show up so early he’s tired before it even starts, but he stays late, doing one-timer drills with Rouss until both of them are aching.

He goes home and gets Juice, because Livvie would probably disown him if he showed up without ‘her’ dog.

There’s a basket of clean laundry on the couch when Jordie gets to Tyler’s house, half of it folded and laid into neat stacks. It’s not that Jordie criticizes his house-keeping or actually does that much when he’s over. The little bit he does do seems to be enough for Tyler to stay on top of it, lets him keep up instead of getting dog-piled by one mess after another.

“Hungry?” Tyler asks as he lets Jordie in.

“Starving.”

Juice goes over to see Livvie, tail wagging so hard he can barely walk. She’s building a big tower out of the super-size Legos and Juice tips the whole thing over in his excitement. Jordie hesitates a second, but she’s too busy saying hi to Juice to have a meltdown.

Tyler doesn’t have a kitchen table, but there are two straight-backed chairs by the little breakfast bar thing.

Tyler pulls out a pan (Jordie’s pan, from when Jordie was cooking for them here before the summer) and a tub of butter, mozzarella and a loaf of bread from the bakery. He starts putting together the sandwiches.

“How was practice?”

“Rough. I didn’t even play the last game and I still had to skate laps with those guys.”

Tyler glances at him like he can hear the bullshit.

“You okay? Sitting out?”

“I’m.” It would be easier to lie to Tyler like he’d lied to Fiddler. “Not really. I don’t want to get put on waivers or traded or…”

He realizes the hypocrisy in telling Jamie he’ll be okay in a new city and still being shit-scared of it happening to himself. This whole NHL thing could be over for him so quick. The line is so thin for a player of his caliber. Any mistake could be the one that ends his career.

“Hey,” Tyler breaks in, derailing Jordie’s train of self-doubt. “You’re not here by accident. You’ve worked your ass off. There’s what—like seven hundred NHL players on a roster at a time? You think any of them are here by accident?”

Jordie shakes his head. He can’t argue with a fact.

“If you’re here, it’s because you were better at hockey than a couple million other little kids, thousands of guys who played junior. The few thousand who ever made it up to the AHL.”

He flips the grilled cheese in the pan.

“You just have to remember—you’re not here by accident. You’re here because you’re good at this hockey stuff. Keep working as hard as you always do. It’ll come together.”

He plates the grilled cheese and slides it in front of Jordie at the counter. “Eat it while it’s hot. I made it with that good rosemary bread you like.”

============

“Easy as jerking off,” Tyler murmurs as he gets out his tablet and lays himself out on the couch. He’s got another hour before Mrs. Busari will be awake, so he has nothing better to do except maybe load the dishwasher.

 _Anyway,_ he tells his brain. It’s been four days since he took a client, four days and his dick is telling him about it, sometimes at inopportune moments, like when Jordie bends over to pick up Livvie’s Legos. Or when Jordie checks a guy in a game. Or when Jordie is putting away groceries, the long strong line of his back all stretched out as he reaches up to put stuff on the top shelf.

 _Anyway,_ he tells his dick. He’s pretty sure it’s not cool to jerk off to thoughts of his good friend who he’s trying not to fall in love with. That’s just a ticket to awkwardsville.

So. Videos. He’s got some porn sites bookmarked—some clients got going easier with a soundtrack of fucking already going in the same room. He scrolls through videos, not quite sure what he wants. He’s got a bunch of ‘twunk gets fucked’ videos, and some ‘mature gay fucked by twunk’. Totally not what he’s looking for.

His dick is getting hard, even if he’s not really into it. He would think it was a work-related issue, a Pavlovian response to being anywhere near sex, but that reaction long predated his job.

He sighs and puts in a couple other searches, uses words like ‘athletic’ and ‘sweet’ and stops himself from typing ‘hockey’.

It’s just. Not doing it for him. He takes off his shirt, pulls his jeans down to his knees. Palms himself through his underwear.

The unsorted men-for-men section is just dull. He’s thumbed through six pages and still hasn’t seen anything worth clicking on.

So, no videos. He goes to Youtube instead, types ‘mellow music’ and picks the first playlist to come up. Some love song starts to play, a sweet croon to the singer’s ‘honey’ and he can work with this. He lays the tablet down on the coffee table and closes his eyes. Runs his hands down his chest. He used to do this for clients sometimes—put on a show. He can feel himself posing, listening for the client’s response.

He focuses on the feel instead, the drag of his fingertips over his abs, down into the V between his hip bones.

A weird feedback loop is created, Tyler feeling the touch of his hand, and the softness of the skin on his belly at the same time. He brushes across a nipple a few times. Still not his thing. He slides both hands down, cups his dick and balls between them, nothing but his underwear between his hands and his dick.

He teases himself, tickling at the smooth skin of his inner thighs. A laugh bubbles up in his throat. If he stops seeing clients, he can stop _waxing_.

Oh hell yeah.

He strokes himself, two fingers down the underside of his dick. He’s felt what his own touch is like through the cloth, so he pulls it down, getting them to mid-thigh before he doesn’t care anymore. It’s not a pretty picture, not framed for someone else to enjoy.

He expected to fantasize. About Jordie, or maybe Ian. The feel of his own hands, his own body, it’s enough, eyes closed and pumping into his grip.

And then he’s coming, coming and shaking, struggling for breath. He hides his perfectly practiced O-face in the crook of his other arm, even though there’s nobody to see. His face is his. This orgasm is his. His body is his.

At least for that moment.


	29. “And don’t fight each other!”  Mom says

“And don’t fight each other!” Mom finishes the group-Skype with, and both Jamie and Jordie laugh.

“We won’t,” Jordie promises, and Jamie echoes it. Jordie is looking forward to playing his brother with a strange nervous anticipation. Chances are slim that they’ll even be on the ice together at the same time, and if they are, it probably won’t be good for Jordie’s plus-minus stat.

Still, he’s so proud of Jamie he could tell the world about it. The season just started, but Jamie has been killing it so far, and seeing him play in person is going to be a mix of awesome and possibly terrible.

“See you on the ice, Chubbs,” Jordie says after mom has stepped off the call, and Jamie grins at him.

“Can’t wait.”

=============

“Iiiian, it’ll be fun.”

Tyler bats his eyelashes and Ian throws one of Livvie’s stuffed animals at him.

“What makes you think I’d possibly want to see a hockey game?”

“I already got the tickets. C’mon, three hours of strapping young men grunting and slamming into each other? What’s not to love?

“Livvie’ll be with us. It’ll be nice.” He puts that emphasis on ‘nice’ that means ‘not-working’ means ‘nobody to impress’ means ‘you can relax’.

“Ian, Ian, please?” Livvie asks. Tyler knows it was a dirty trick to ask him in front of her, but he’ll take it if it gets Ian to come with them. He wants to be there for Jordie, this first game against his brother. He understands that it’ll be hard, playing against someone he loves. He’ll be there even if Ian says no, but he would appreciate having someone at his side the first time he sees Jamie since the trade.

“I promise you’ll have fun, and if you don’t, I’ll do whatever you want to do next time we both have a day off to make up for it.”

Ian raises an eyebrow and Tyler shakes his head. It’s been…over a week since he’s taken a job, and he’s just getting used to how it feels, having his own body all to himself. “Whatever you want” doesn’t mean _that_

“Alright, but if it sucks, you’re spending all day Saturday antiquing with me.”

Ian wouldn’t know an antique from an anthill, so it’s not much of a threat.

“Deal.”

=============

Jamie didn’t have any idea how weird it would be, to be back in Texas, back in Dallas, wearing another team’s sweater. This is his home, the team that took a chance on him, who wanted him when he was still having a hard time balancing hockey and the other sports he was playing, when he wasn’t very fast or agile.

Zetterberg taps his stick on Jamie’s pads, drawing him back to himself. “I know it’s weird. Remember to pass to the guys in red and white.”

Jamie nods like it’s a serious suggestion. “Got it. The red team.”

Cole snorts and Jamie finishes pulling up his socks over his pads, taping them into place.

He likes this team. They’re good guys to play with. Nice to be around off the ice, as much as Jamie has gone out with them after a game or practice at least.

The team heads for the door, down the tunnel to the ice to do warm-ups. The glass is crowded with people there to watch, a few spatterings of red amongst the green. Some Stars fans are still wearing his jersey.

He loops around behind the net, heads for the center line. He catches a glimpse of Jordie’s numbers, heading the other way, and times his next pass so they can say hi.

He doesn’t get that far. Near the center, right up against the glass is Olivia, standing on the top of the boards against the glass, Tyler’s hand steadying her. Jordie skates up to them, smiles easy like it isn’t a surprise for them to be there. Smiles at Tyler like…like…Jamie doesn’t think he’s seen Jordie smile like that before, happy and focused like the people in front of him are his whole world.

And Tyler. Tyler isn’t even looking at Jamie. Like he doesn’t matter, like he never mattered. After all he’d done, all he’d risked.

He’s never seen this Tyler either, the stretch of his smile, the light in his eyes.

If Jamie had had this Tyler, he never would have broken up with him.

This isn’t his Tyler. Has never been his Tyler. Will never be his Tyler.

He hadn't thought about Jordie still talking to Tyler, much less _this_ whatever this is.

Jealousy burns in his stomach, so sour he thinks he might choke on it.

Not a desire for a man he’d never truly had. Jealousy that they’re so fucking happy and he’s just barely hanging on to any joy at all.

“Hey!”

Zetterberg bumps shoulder pads with him. Jamie blinks at him. Wonders how many times he’s had to call to get Jamie’s attention.

“Save it for the game.”

Jamie looks around. Jordie is standing behind Zetterberg, his face a mask of concern.

Jamie drifts back on his skates, away from the sting of betrayal. Turns and heads for the tunnel.

=========

Jordie watches the players on the ice fly by. Jamie slams Eakin into the glass, a bone-crunching hit that makes half the bench wince.

The whistle blows and the shift changes, another play goes by. Jordie looks down the bench and Jamie is staring at him.

Shit.

Jamie’s coach sends him out, and after a second, Ruff taps Jordie to go.

He skates to his place on the line, off to the far left of the puck-drop dot.

Jamie is the Red Wing that’s actually taking the face-off, but he jumps early, bats at Horcoff’s stick enough times that the ref sends him off and someone else goes in.

Jamie squares up against Jordie and the player who had been there moves down a spot.

Jamie looks…Jamie doesn’t look right, even worse than he had at warm-ups. The shock and betrayal has faded and there’s nothing but pure anger left, spots of dark pink on Jamie’s otherwise pale face.

“Jamie,” Jordie says. Not sure what he wants to follow that up with.

“You and him?” Jamie asks, the words venom on his lips. "How the hell do you afford that, Jordie? He getting cheap? Dropped his rates since last time I fucked him, or is it a family discount?”

The puck drops but Jordie doesn’t care. A wave of fury washes over him. He drops his stick, whips his wrists to get rid of his gloves and then he grabs Jamie’s front with one hand and hits his face with the other. It’s a dirty sucker-punch, before Jamie even gets his gloves off.

He gets one good blow in, one solid hit that feels so fucking good, and then Jamie processes the attack. He holds Jordie out of range for the next swing and then starts to pound, that big fist hitting like a hammer. Jordie tries to get his arm up but Jamie powers through it. Jordie’s helmet goes skittering across the ice. There’s blood in his vision. He should sit the fuck down and let the linesmen call it. He wants one last punch bad enough to get hit while he tries to get it in, one shot to tell Jamie that wasn’t fucking okay.

His arms are too heavy to lift though, the arena tilting dangerously around them. Jamie hits him one last time and lets him fall.

============

Jamie hits Jordie one last time and then lets him fall, and Tyler’s yell of “Fuck!” is lost in the swell of noise. Jamie is skated off to the box and Tyler waits, heart pounding.

“Get up, get up, get up,” he whispers. Livvie clings to him, too close to him for him to see how she’s taking it. He holds her against his chest, her head turned away from the ice. Their seats are up in 327, and he can’t see enough from here, can’t see Jordie’s face, but he’s moving.

One of the Stars medical staff steps onto the ice, but Jordie is rolling over by then, coming up to one knee. He raises a hand to the crowd. Tyler can see the red on his face from here.

“Shit, I need to get down there,” he says. He picks Livvie up, edges past the knees of the other spectators in the steep upper bowl seating. Ian scrambles after him, grabbing Livvie’s blanket and leaving their sodas.

“How are you getting in?” Ian asks, and fuck, Tyler doesn’t know.

They come out to the upper bowl loop corridor between two of the concession stands. Ian holds out his arms and Tyler passes Livvie over.

Tyler pulls out his phone and calls Jordie. It rings and rings and then goes to voice mail.

Tyler heads for the escalator, Ian at his side. He dials again as they get to the ground floor. A muffled cheer goes up from inside the arena, but they don’t know what’s going on.

Livvie is sniffling against Ian’s collar and Tyler feels like shit. Can’t take care of his baby, can’t get to Jordie.

“Hey baby girl, it’s okay.” He rubs her back even though Ian’s the one holding her. “It’s okay. Jordie got a little banged up, but he’s okay.”

“I wanna go home,” she whimpers and Tyler puts his forehead against her cheek.

“I know, I know.”

“Hey,” Ian says. “I can take her home. Gimme your keys and meet us there later.”

Tyler takes breath. He doesn't like sending her away from him, but he knows she'll be safe and he can't say the same thing about Jordie. It'll be best for Livvie to not be there if Tyler does manage to get to him.

He passes over his keys.

“I’ll pay you back,” Tyler promises. “You be good for Ian, okay, Livvie?”

She nods but she’s upset. At least she’s comfortable enough with Ian to cling onto him.

Tyler kisses her forehead.

“Okay, okay you guys go ahead. I’ll call you when I know anything.”

Ian goes and Tyler paces. People trickle out of the arena. The end-of-period horn sounds and the trickle becomes a torrent.

Tyler looks in. He can’t tell if Jordie has been back on the ice yet. He might be freaking out about something that’s smaller than it looked from where he was sitting. It could be no big deal.

He dials one last time. If Jordie doesn’t answer, he’ll go back to his seat and wait to see if Jordie plays the rest of the game or not.

“Hello?” the voice on the phone sounds distinctly puzzled and definitely not like Jordie.

“Who is this?”

“Uh, Jordie can’t talk right now so he told me to get it.” The voice goes muffled. “Yeah, the caller ID said Tyler.” He comes back. “You are Tyler, right?”

“Yeah.” He finds a quiet place between a column and the wall and plugs the other ear with his finger so he can hear. If Jordie is well enough to ask who it is, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?

“I’m Kyle,” the guy on the phone says, and Tyler could not care fucking less.

“How is he?”

There’s an obnoxiously long pause, sounds of people talking, heated words wherever Kyle and Jordie are

“They glued up the cut and they’re checking for concussion now. Doesn’t look like any bones in his face are broken, but it ain’t pretty.”

Tyler breathes. It could be worse. It could be so much worse.

“Says to come out and get you,” Kyle says, and Tyler missed something.

“What?”

“Jordie wants me to come out and bring you back here. Where are you at?”

Tyler looks around. “Uh, west entrance, kind of near section 104.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute. How will I recognize you? What are you wearing?”

Tyler turns the camera on his phone around and snaps an unhappy selfie. Sends it to Jordie’s number.

“Oh. Okay. See you in a minute.”

He waits, and Kyle comes and gets him. It’s all a blur, going through a service entrance next to the emergency stairs. A maze of corridors that he wouldn’t be able to navigate through again if his life depended on it. Into more occupied areas, trainers and a few staff moving around.

Jordie is up on an examination table, his shirt and upper body pads off, the skates on his feet dangling. A doctor or something fusses over him. Tyler hangs back—the last thing he wants is to be kicked out before he can see that Jordie is okay.

Kyle puts Jordie’s phone in his hand. “Here, hold onto this for him.”

Tyler takes it, finds a place where he’s not in the way and can still see Jordie from. The PA system here plays the radio commentators, and Tyler listens to them talking about the fight in between calling the plays.

Jordie meets Tyler's eyes past the doctor who is examining him. He looks exhausted. Hurt. Blood colors his face, a thick red line in places, wiped to a dull smear in others. The cut is in his eyebrow and Tyler can’t see how long it is.

The doctor must be asking questions. Jordie’s mouth moves in short one-word answers.

The doctor cleans his face with wet gauze, and finally steps back. He makes a go-ahead gesture. Jordie hops down from the table. He’s still in his skates, and he clomps over to the other table where his pads are.

The doctor nods Tyler over to Jordie and steps out of the room, but they’re not alone, people coming in and out.

Jordie picks up his pads and swings them over his shoulders. Starts doing up the straps. He’s going back out. Of fucking course he’s going back out.

“Here, I got it,” Tyler says, and peels the Velcro back up, lays it down straight.

Getting the sweater on is the hardest part—it’s a new one, not the one Jordie bled all over, but the neck hole brushes Jordie’s face no matter how Tyler holds it.

“Livvie?” Jordie asks, the first word he’s spoken directly to Tyler.

“I sent her home with Ian.”

Jordie grunts. “Good.” He stands still and closes his eyes for just a moment. “Can you stay here until it’s over?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I’ll be here.”

Jordie nods and goes out, picking up his stick as he leaves the room.

_Jordie Benn, back on the bench. It’s good to see he’s able to return to the game._

Tyler finds a chair to sit in, listens to the last period play through. It doesn’t sound like the coach puts Jordie out more than a single shift, and the play-by-play doesn’t say him and Jamie are on the ice together.

Tyler does the only thing he can. He waits.


	30. The turning point

The painkillers they shot into Jordie’s eyebrow are about useless by the time he comes off the ice. Half his face is a slow pulsing throb.

“Will you do media?” the PR person asks as he pulls off his gear. They don’t always ask, so it’s probably optional.

“No.”

He digs through his stall, looking for his phone. Shit, his parents have probably already called. Mom gave him one rule on this game and he broke it; he’s probably missed a dozen scolding texts by now. His phone should be right where he left it, right…no, it’s not. Tyler has it. He finds the bottle of pills the doc gave him and dry-swallows one, strips out of his gear.

He goes to the medical room but doesn’t see Tyler there. Some of the guys are heading for the tables, getting tweaked knees and shoulders looked at. It was a shitty, physical game, made worse by the Stars losing at home. Jordie searches around without going in, and there Tyler is, out of the way, watching it all. Jordie raises his hand, gets Tyler’s attention.

And then he realizes he’s on the way to the showers in nothing but a towel. He holds up a finger and then taps where a watch would rest on his wrist, points towards the shower, back to the dressing room and then down at the floor.

Tyler nods. Holds up Jordie’s phone and waves it. Jordie gives him a thumb’s up.

He goes and showers, lets the heat and the pressure work some of the tension out of him. He sighs. Fucking Jamie, fucking…if he thinks too far down that path, he’ll undo any progress the shower has made. Besides, Tyler is waiting on him.

Tyler is waiting on him, and Jordie goes back to get dressed, shrugging off his teammates questions or teasing. He just wants to be done with it all, take his lumps from his mom and go to sleep.

Tyler is waiting for him, looking worried. He takes Jordie’s bag without a word.

“Can you drive me home?” Jordie asks, and Tyler trades him phone for keys.

“You missed some calls,” Tyler says. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to answer, so I didn’t.”

Jordie shrugs. “It’s fine either way.”

He reads the log as they walk to the lot where the players park. Six missed calls from mom, a bunch of texts from friends. One missed call from Jamie. The time-stamp looks like it was between the second and third periods.

He gets in the truck when Tyler clicks it open and sends a single text.

 **Jordie:**  
_I’m okay_

 **Mom:**  
_What were you thinking?_  
 _Why would you do that?_

Jordie knows. He knows, he knows why he did that. He just can’t explain it to his mom right now, how he feels about Tyler, the history between Tyler and Jamie. He repeats that he’s okay and turns the phone off.

“You okay?” Tyler asks as he threads through traffic.

Jordie tips his head back against the seat and breathes out. “Yeah.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything else, but when Jordie opens his eyes to check, to make sure Tyler isn’t pissed off at him, his face is making little twitches like he’s either forming a question or keeping one from coming out.

Jordie closes his eyes again. If Tyler will wait until he’s feeling better to ask, then Jordie will sure as hell let him.

Tyler pulls into Jordie’s complex and Jordie points out his parking spot. Tyler hops out, grabs Jordie’s bag from behind the seat and comes around.

The truck’s door feels heavy, but Jordie can get it open himself, so he does. Tyler falls into step beside him, matching his stride.

“I can’t stay long,” Tyler says as he unlocks Jordie’s door for him.

“I understand,” Jordie says. God, he fucked up. “Did Livvie see it?”

“Some. I turned her around as soon as I knew what was happening. I. Jordie, what the _hell_?”

Jordie winces. Shit. They’re doing this now.

“He said. He said some things. I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

Jordie debates whether to sit on the couch or continue on through to his bedroom. It seems rude to end the conversation by going somewhere that Tyler might be uncomfortable in, so he sinks down to the couch. His neck is sore, whiplash from the beating Jamie gave him.

Tyler walks past, goes into Jordie’s kitchen. He reassures Juice in his kennel and comes back with a beer and an ice-pack.

“What the hell could he say?” Tyler asks, his voice softer.

“Please. Can we please do this tomorrow?” Jordie will be less likely to fuck it up by the light of day, with some amount of sleep between him and Jamie’s words.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Tyler kneels at Jordie’s feet, starts untying his shoelaces. Jordie wants to tell him to get up, to not do that, but bending over with his face throbbing like this would hurt like hell. It’s not Tyler’s job to take care of him, but Jordie is unbearably grateful that he’s willing to.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Tyler says, offering Jordie a hand up from the couch.

“Thanks,” Jordie says, and he’s so close and it’s so easy to wrap Tyler in his arms, for them to lean against each other for a moment.

“You need anything?” Tyler asks when Jordie pulls away.

“Prescription bottle, side pocket of my bag.”

Tyler gets him that too, and Jordie takes himself away, down the short hall to his bedroom. He needs. He needs to give Tyler a key, a way to get in here if he ever needs to.

Assuming Tyler wants anything to do with him after he tells him about the words Jamie said, why they hurt Jordie bad enough to piss him off like that. He’d lost that fight before he ever dropped his gloves. Jamie doesn’t have much reach or weight on him, but he has always had this switch, this gear in his head that Jordie doesn’t that pours everything he has into a fight.

He gets his shirt unbuttoned and his dress slacks off, and that seems adequate for him to fall into bed. Fuck, what a day.

==========

Tyler watches Jordie go down the hall, waits for the light under his door to finally go out. Jesus. He keeps getting flashes of the fight, the way Jordie’s head had snapped back, the way his knees crumpled when Jamie dropped him.

Tyler feels off-balance. Shaky. He uses the guest bath to wash his face, to try to get himself under control.

Shit, he needs to call Ian, make sure him and Livvie got home safe. Needs to call a car to come take him home. He should probably take Juice down for a quick walk.

He steps back into the living room just as the front door swings open. His heart takes a stutter as Jamie slinks in.

“No,” Tyler whispers, a spike of fear and anger stabbing through his chest.

“No,” he says, louder. “Get out.”

Jamie looks at him, has the decency to look guilty. He doesn’t even look bruised.

“Is he…”

Tyler doesn’t let him finish.

“Get. Out. Get the fuck out. You’re not welcome here.”

“I just.”

Tyler steps between Jamie and Jordie’s door. He’s shaking. Oh god this is stupid. Jamie smashed Jordie like a freight train, and Tyler’s fit but he’s not nearly as used to taking the hits like Jordie is. Tyler feels like a Chihuahua standing up to a Great Dane.

Jamie takes a step forward, frowning.

“I need…”

“I don’t care what you need,” Tyler hisses. “You _hurt_ him, you fucking _asshole_.”

His heartbeat pounds through his head. He hasn’t been this scared since a man had hands around his throat. This could go so wrong so fast. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, so tight his knuckles ache. The only thing he can do to keep himself safe is to let Jamie through, and he’ll be damned before he does that. He braces himself to attack, gathers the words that will cut the deepest, will drive Jamie out of here.

“Jamie, you should go.”

Tyler can practically feel the warmth of Jordie at his back, his quiet strength.

Jamie looks stricken.

“Shit, Jordie, your face…”

“You’re not welcome here,” Jordie says.

“I need to talk to you. I’m so fucking sorry. What I said, what…”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Jordie says, clear and careful. His hand is gentle on Tyler’s shoulder, drawing him back a step from Jamie’s reach.

“I want you gone. You can go, or I can call the police.”

Jamie hesitates, and all three of them know how bad that would be for him, for his career. He backs down, finally, taking a step away from them.

“I’ll call you,” Jamie says.

Jordie draws Tyler closer—whether he’s seeking comfort from Tyler or trying to protect him, Tyler doesn’t know.

“Don’t bother,” Jordie says, and Jamie looks like he’s the one that got his ass kicked as he backs out the door and closes it behind him.

Jordie lets out a shaky sigh and Tyler crosses the room and locks the door. It’s more symbolic than anything—Jamie still has a key.

==========

Tyler goes to lock the door and the idea of him being so far from Jordie’s side is unbearable. Jordie follows him to the door, is there when he turns around.

Seeing Tyler standing up to Jamie, standing between Jamie and Jordie and telling Jamie to leave-he can’t remember feeling that scared in his life. God, he loves his brother, but the way he’d looked at warmups, the way he reacted to the punch—any understanding he had of Jamie is out the window. Any idea of what he is and isn’t capable of, is a big fat unknown now.

And Tyler. Shit, Jordie could see the way he’d been shaking, the mix of defiance and terror in his stance. That Tyler would stand up to Jamie for _him_ rattles him to his core.

He cups his hands around Tyler’s face, and Tyler stares at him, lips parted, a worried frown between his eyebrows. He’s shaking still, adrenaline running wild in his system.

Jordie wants nothing more than to kiss him right now, to feel him warm and safe and alive against his lips.

He looks him over instead.

“Did he touch you?” Jordie asks.

Tyler’s hands rest over Jordie’s but he’s not pulling away, not pushing Jordie off of him.

“I’m okay,” Tyler says. Just because Jamie didn’t punch him doesn’t mean he’s okay, and Jordie can feel him trembling. He draws Tyler in against his chest. God, he’s so warm. Tyler’s arms go around his waist and Jordie’s encircle Tyler’s shoulders. They fit, Tyler just a little less-tall than Jordie. His cheek rests so perfectly against Jordie’s neck.

“He wanted to talk to you,” Tyler says, uncertain.

“I don’t care what he wanted. He should have left when you told him to.”

Tyler sighs against Jordie’s shoulder.

Jordie should let go. Any second now.

“What did he say to you?” Tyler asks. Says it like he already knows. “You knew he’d kick your ass. Jordie, why would you _do_ that?”

Jordie takes three slow breaths and Tyler doesn’t rush him.

“He said. He said I was paying you. To. To be with me. To have sex with me.”

Tyler doesn’t pull away but Jordie loosens his grip anyway. Lets his hands fall.

“And you. You got in a fight with someone like Jamie over that?”

Jordie closes his eyes and sets his jaw in stubbornness. “He doesn’t get to talk like that. He doesn’t get to talk about _you_ like that. It was worth it. It was worth getting hit to get that one good punch in his asshole face.”

Tyler frowns, his hands moving to Jordie’s shoulders. Jordie looks down and Tyler ducks down to see his face.

“It’s not like it’s true. There’s…god, I can’t think of a guy who is less likely than you to make sex a transaction.”

“I don’t care about what he said about _me_.”

Tyler’s frown deepens and Jordie winces. Shit. Jordie steps back and Tyler’s hands fall off of him. He can’t say this when they’re so close. Can’t meet Tyler’s eyes when he does.

He really wishes he’d left his pants on so he wasn’t doing this in his boxers. He feels laid bare enough without having half his clothes off.

“This is not your problem. I have. I have _feelings_ and my feelings are not. Not something you need to do anything about. It won’t affect our friendship. I won’t let it affect our friendship.”

“Jordie, what are you talking about?”

Jordie looks up then, into Tyler’s worried eyes.

“I get that you don’t need this bullshit. Not again. But I. But I love you and I’m not gonna let anybody talk about you like you’re a thing, like you’re a trophy to win or a fancy new car to buy.”

“Jesus, Jordie.”

Tyler doesn’t have any words to follow that up with so Jordie fills the silence.

“I know there’s too much. Too much baggage, too much history. You and Jamie and. I know we can’t be like that. That we can’t. Be together. But you are so important to me. Your friendship is so important to me.”

“Yeah,” Tyler breathes, an unsteady whisper. “I need to call Ian. See how Livvie is. I need to go home.”

It hurts like nails getting hammered into his chest, but Jordie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll walk you down to the cab if you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then.”

Tyler pulls out his phone and takes another step away from Jordie, and Jordie doesn’t blame him for wanting the space. He makes it easier by going to the kitchen. He leans against the wall when he’s out of Tyler’s line of sight. Covers his face with his hands, heedless of his cuts and bruises. Juice whines in his crate, but Jordie doesn’t have the strength to care for him that second.

He’s scared. Scared he fucked it all up with his messy emotions. He’d change it if he could, be the friend Tyler deserved instead of someone else wanting parts of Tyler they don't have any right to.

He stands there for a long time, giving Tyler the time to process the shit Jordie just dumped on him, to call Ian and a cab.

Jordie takes a breath and gets a pair of Gatorades out of the fridge. He detours to put his slacks back on and then goes out into the living room. Tyler is on the couch, his phone in front of him but the screen is dark.

“I’m sorry,” Jordie says.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

They sit there, together in the quiet, until Tyler gets a text that his driver is here. Jordie leashes Juice and walks Tyler down to the street level, watches until he is inside the car and the door closed.

Jordie looks around as they drive away, but he doesn’t see Jamie anywhere.


	31. Feelings and Chipotle

Jordie closes the car door, taps the roof to let the driver know Tyler is in and Jordie’s clear. The driver pulls from the curb.

Tyler. Tyler is so fucking beyond tired. Any flight or fight he had in him is gone, and he droops against the cab’s seat.

He needs to think about this. To cement Jordie’s words in his head. He needs to have something to say next time he sees Jordie, or to make a decision not to talk about it at all.

‘Not gonna change anything,’ sounds nice, but Tyler doesn’t know if he believes it. It already changes things, the dumb stir of hope in his chest, a crush that’s been evolving into something stronger since Jordie came back to Dallas. The hope that maybe, maybe this time it can work. That Tyler can be…can be a person in love with another person and not fuck it up.

What would it even look like? Him, being in a relationship with someone like Jordie, a real relationship. He already aches to take the lead, to smooth over the rough spots. Jordie is so open, so easily read. It would be so simple to figure out what Jordie wants, how to make it best for him. Easier than figuring out what he wants for himself, for sure.

He’s just starting to remember what sex was without it being an act, a show. Started touching himself when he’s home alone. He doesn’t want to lose that, lose himself before he’s found it again.

Being with Jordie would be easier than figuring himself out. It wouldn’t be fair, though. Jordie deserves more than Tyler’s customer-service best, and Tyler can’t stand to pretend his way through another boyfriend.

They can’t be together. It would be a disaster. Tyler doesn’t know how to do relationships. He doesn’t know how to tell what he wants from what he wants to do to please the client. He doesn’t know how to _feel_ without someone to perform those feelings for.

He closes his eyes and tries not to think about things that can’t happen.

==========

 

Jordie goes back up to his apartment, turning his phone back on as he walks.

He waits through a torrent of notifications. Missed calls, texts.

By the time he’s in his living room they’ve all come through and he can dial.

“Jordie?”

He hates that he’s done this to his mother, that she sounds so uncertain, so ragged.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

“Jordie, what happened out there?”

It would be easier if she yelled at him.

Juice pokes his nose into Jordie’s hand, low to the ground, ears back, his tail wagging pathetically. Jordie holds still until Juice licks his fingers.

“You know I love my brother, right?”

She’s quiet, giving him the floor.

“I just. He said something. He tried to make me mad and he got it.”

“Jordie, what words could possibly be so bad that you’d hit him like that? That you guys would fight like that.”

Jordie sighs. Juice licks his fingers.

“You’ll have to ask him. They were his words.”

Seconds go by as she waits for him to add something and he doesn’t.

“Are you okay? Is anything broken? Are you concussed?”

“I’m okay,” he repeats. Except for spilling his secrets to the one person he needed to keep them from. Except that he doesn’t know if his best friend will ever see him again.

“I’m okay, Mom. I love you. Sorry you had to see that.”

=========

 

**Tyler:**  
_We still on for dinner tomorrow?_

**Jordie:**  
_Of course_  
_6?_

Jordie doesn’t hold his breath waiting for Tyler’s reply, which turns out to be a wise choice. Passing out on the stationary bike is not the kind of chirping material he wants to give his team.

**Tyler:**  
_Looking forward to it_  
_Livvie misses you_

The little ‘typing’ dots blink and stop, blink and stop as Tyler types and re-types a thought.

**Jordie:**  
_I miss her too._

He hopes that’s not too direct, too much of a demand on Tyler’s time. It’s not his problem if Jordie misses Livvie or not. Not his obligation to bring her over.

**Tyler:**  
_See you tomorrow_

Jordie really hadn’t _expected_ Tyler to ditch him, to cancel their plans and never speak to him, but it’s a hell of a relief anyway.

========

Dinner is…dinner. Tyler is quiet, subdued. Livvie kisses Jordie’s owie better. Juice sits under Livvie’s chair hoping for dropsies.

After, while Tyler is helping Jordie load the dishwasher, and Livvie and Juice are playing with a ball in the living room, Tyler says “Can we talk? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m up in Frisco until like two. Or we could meet before practice, but.”

Tyler usually naps while Livvie is at pre-school, and it’s probably not a great idea for Tyler to talk about anything important while he’s tired.

“Two works. Do you. Can I come here, or do you want to come to my place?”

Jordie kind of expected a neutral territory type of conversation.

“Whichever would be easiest for you.”

Now would be a good time to give Tyler a key to the apartment, fresh from the locksmith who changed the locks after Jamie came in. Except it would be a terrible time to make a gesture like that.

“Come by mine,” Tyler decides. “I’ll get Chipotle.”

It’s not like Tyler has Jordie’s order memorized, but it’s in his phone app from the last time they ate there together.

“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m on the way. You need me to stop and pick anything up?”

“I’ll let you know then, but I don’t think so.”

Tyler pops the detergent pack into the dishwasher. They move around each other smoothly as they clean up the kitchen, comfortable and familiar. Jordie doesn’t think Tyler would invite him over and feed him to end their friendship, and of all the things Tyler could have to talk about, that’s the only one he’s afraid of.

=============

Jordie texts as he’s leaving the locker room, followed out by the chirps of his team teasing him about stupid grins and secret girlfriends. Tyler replies that he’s awake and he’ll be back from Chipotle by the time Jordie can get there.

He drives over to Tyler’s place and goes up. Tyler lets him in when he knocks, and Jordie takes a second to look at him. He looks soft. Loose soft sweater and comfortable jeans. The bag of takeout is on the coffee table so Jordie heads there.

They eat: Tyler telling Jordie about Livvie demanding that he cut her toast in the direction Jordie always does, Jordie talking about practice. It’s good there’s no pop quiz on this because Jordie has no idea what he just said.

Tyler finishes his bowl and pushes it back. Jordie isn’t done with his but he sets it aside, giving Tyler his full attention.

Tyler wipes his palms on the thighs of his jeans like his hands are sweating.

“I was thinking about the thing you said. About. Having feelings. For me. I’m. I appreciate you telling me.” His gaze is lowered, his face hard to read. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, grazes the pink skin as he pulls it out again.

“You deserve the same courtesy. It couldn’t have been easy. It’s not easy. I.” His eyes flick up for just a second, taking in whatever Jordie’s face is doing.

“I like you,” Tyler says in a rush. “I’ve. I’ve had the hugest crush for a long time. Since you helped me with the concussion. Maybe even earlier. I. I know this can’t happen. We can’t. What you said about history and baggage. I’m so fucking lucky to be your friend. I won’t ruin that trying to get more.”

Jordie frowns. He’s never ever heard Tyler swear inside this apartment—The story is that Livvie’s second word had been ‘fuck’ and Tyler’s been so careful ever since. Even concussed, he hadn’t slipped.

He wants to take Tyler’s hand, but it hasn’t been offered so he doesn’t.

“If anybody’s lucky, it’s me,” Jordie argues. “You’re. You’re one of the genuinely nicest people I know. You know when I’m having a shitty time and make it easier. You believe in me with hockey and eat my cooking even when I can barely choke it down. You.”

It will do no good telling Tyler how beautiful he is, how his smile lights Jordie’s day, how coming to Tyler’s after practice had felt so right, so much better than heading to the empty apartment he’d once shared with Jamie.

“I’m sorry,” Jordie says. “I can’t…” It had been so much easier to say they could stay friends when it was only Jordie who was denying himself, when there was no chance Tyler would want more.

Tyler shakes his head. “No, no. Me either. I. I’m fucking terrible at it. At relationships.”

He’s worrying the thumbnail of his left hand with his right, pushing against the cuticle with the edge of the other nail. Jordie covers Tyler’s hands with one of his to stop him before he does damage.

Tyler pulls his hands away, but leans fractionally closer into Jordie’ space.

“You are really good at relationships,” Jordie says. “Look at Ian. He was ready to fight me, Tyler, that night when he came looking for you after the concussion. I’ve got five inches and fifty pounds on him and he was ready to go. If you didn’t want me there, if I’d been hurting you? He’d have done whatever it took to get you safe. That relationship is strong. And Mrs. Busari. The way you take care of her kids to let her work or nap or whatever. The way you are so careful of the things that make her nervous or unhappy. Look at Livvie. She loves you so much. You work so hard, and it would be so easy to just—work, make the money and let other people raise her, but you don’t. You’re such a dependable part of her life.”

“That’s not relationships,” Tyler says. His chin trembles and Jordie just. Just wants to make it better.

“I don’t know how to make love,” Tyler whispers. “I don’t know how to have sex with somebody I like. How to. How to make it natural. How to not fucking _sell_ every goddamn minute of it.”

Jordie takes Tyler’s hands again and Tyler lets him. He leans into Jordie’s shoulder, and Jordie gathers him close.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t. Jesus, I don’t even know where to start.”

Tyler draws a shuddering breath against Jordie’s shoulder, and Jordie better find a place to start before Tyler thinks any part of him is unlovable.

“Those _are_ relationships,” Jordie says. “A lover, a partner, it’s just friendship from a slightly different angle. It’s maybe more intimacy. It’s commitment and working for a shared future. It’s a lot of things, but sex doesn’t have to be one of them.”

Tyler snorts.

Jordie pushes him back so he can see Tyler’s face, tips it up gently. Tyler smiles bitterly through his tears, won’t meet Jordie’s eyes.

“It doesn’t,” Jordie repeats. “You. Your job. It’s sex without love, right? Is it that hard to believe there can be love without sex?”

Tyler nods, and Jordie pulls him back into a hug. Fuck.

“Nobody has a right to demand that from someone else, or, or hold the relationship hostage over it. If you. If that’s something you aren’t interested in, then my dick is my own responsibility to take care of.”

He winces at the slip, at talking like this is a thing that’s possible: him and Tyler.

“I mean if it was me. It can’t be. I can’t take it. I.”

Tyler pushes back, serious this time, and Jordie lets him go. He stands, starts shoving the take-out dishes into the bag.

“Of course not. Of course, you can’t. Can’t be with somebody like me.”

The bitterness in Tyler’s voice turns his stomach.

“No, no, Tyler. I can’t. Can’t follow Jamie. Not here, not in this…”

Tyler’s eyes narrow and it’s hard to not be the one to look away this time.

“If this is some kind of sloppy seconds bro-code fucking bullshit…” his voice is low and dangerous.

“No!” Jordie cuts in, because it couldn’t be further from the truth. “No. It’s. I have been following in my kid brother’s footsteps since I was _nineteen years old_.” He takes a shaky breath. He’s never been jealous of Jamie’s success. Never wished him anything other than the best, but.

“I’ve been less than him for my whole adult life. And I don’t care. Most of the time I don’t care that he’s better at hockey and he makes ten times what I do. It’s. I know who I am and I like that person, no matter what other people think. I just. It would fucking _kill_ me to have you compare us. To not be as good as him.”

Tyler frowns.

“Jordie, in what fucking way do you think you could _possibly_ be less-good than him off of the ice?”

Jordie’s shoulders drop, his face warms as blood rushes to it. He can’t look at Tyler. “I haven’t. I. Most of my experience is with women. I. I haven’t done more than quick hand-jobs with guys. I’m. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Tyler goes still, and then turns and walks towards him, pushes the coffee table out of the way. He crouches in front of Jordie, puts his hands on Jordie’s knees and looks up at him. His lips twitch with humor even though tears gather in his eyelashes.

“I thought we just decided that sex isn’t the most important thing in a relationship?”

Jordie makes a sound, and even he’s not sure if it was a laugh or a sob. Hope hurts. Son of a bitch, hope hurts more than getting slammed into the boards.

“I don’t. I don’t want to perform sex when I’m with you,” Tyler says, “And I don’t know any other way to do it right now.”

Jordie nods, covers Tyler’s hands with his. He strokes his thumb over Tyler’s knuckles, soothing them both.

“I think I’d hate that,” Jordie agrees. Imagines looking up into Tyler’s face and seeing him masked in professionalism. It’s scarier to think Tyler might be ‘working’ and Jordie might miss it, might let it go on like that.

“I’d rather wait. Take it as slow as you want or need, and if. If it never got to that point, I mean…we’ve been doing pretty good without sex so far, right?”

Tyler swallows hard and nods. Jordie could leave it there, but that wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t be honest.

“You’re. You’re tactile,” Jordie says. “You like being touched, right? Being held. I’d like to do more of that. I’d like to kiss you sometimes, if that wouldn’t feel like work.”

“Jordie, my work…”

Jordie closes his eyes. Shit. It’s the one thing he didn’t think about—if he could live with it, watching Tyler leave to be with men who didn’t care about him.

“I’ve been tending bar. At this restaurant called Abrea. I cut my client list. Stopped taking new clients, or ones that had been less than great, and then I closed a lot of my appointment slots and then all of them. I haven’t seen a client in almost two weeks. I’m. I’m taking a break. I don’t know if it’ll be forever, but. But I’ll tell you if I think about starting up again. We can talk about it. If I do.”

Jordie swallows and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fair.”

Tyler rests his cheek on Jordie’s knee. Jordie’s hand goes instinctively to pet his hair, feels it soft between his fingers.

“Are we really doing this?” Jordie whispers. The thought seems too big to be spoken of out loud.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

Jordie taps Tyler’s shoulder, waits until he looks up. When he does, Jordie nods him up to the couch beside him. Tyler climbs up, curls into Jordie’s side. They sit, for a long time, holding each other.

“I’ll need to go get Livvie—she’s still at daycare.”

Jordie nods. “Okay.”

“I threw away your food.”

Jordie shrugs.

“I could make you a grilled cheese. Before I have to go get Livvie.”

“Sure. You want a hand?”

It’s not really a two-man job, but Jordie goes into the kitchen with Tyler anyway. Passes Tyler the ingredients, washes up the couple dishes in the sink and puts the food back in the fridge just as Tyler is finishing up the sandwiches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tehcoop for the beta-job on this and the following few chapters


	32. First night

**Jamie:**  
_I’m sorry_  
 _I ducked up_  
 _Fucked_

 **Jamie:**  
_I deserved that_  
 _Never should have said what I did_  
 _Is tyler ok?_

 **Jamie:**  
_I’m sorry_  
 _Shit I’m so sorry_

Jordie looks up from the string of unanswered texts. He’s not sure what bar he’s at. Somewhere in Anaheim that the guys wanted to go. There are TVs everywhere—one is showing the NHL highlights. Jamie plows through four Jets to get to the net. He’s on a six-game point streak.

Jordie goes back to messages, switches to the conversation he’s having with Tyler. There’s a link to a cookbook for people who can’t cook.

 **Jordie:**  
_Yeah that sounds good_  
 _You gonna do it with me?_

 **Tyler:**  
_Sure_

They chat a little more. Tyler’s looking to join a rec team at the next sign-ups. His new schedule is a little more regular than the old one. The same days off most weeks unless he switches with the other regular bartender. Jordie likes the idea of Tyler having more people, having a team.

 **Jordie:**  
_We’ll have to put your games on the calendar_

Tyler sends back a blushing smile emoji.

 **Jordie:**  
_I’ll bring Livvie and we’ll watch you play_  
 _As long as you’re not gonna get in a fight_

Jordie grins at the pugilist emoji.

“You’re having a good night,” Brenden says, bumping their shoulders together.

Jordie smiles. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

============

It’s not an accident this time, that Tyler ends up here, his car parked in one of the guest spots. The elevator and halls are quiet at this time of night—the bar at Abrea stays open an hour after the kitchen stops serving, but he gets out of there by one A.M. almost every night. Mrs. Busari’s schedule hasn’t changed, and he won’t ask her to get up early to let him pick Livvie up, so his sleep pattern hasn’t changed much.

Not that it matters tonight, with Livvie at the Hudson’s for the weekend.

The key Jordie gave him is on his keyring. He’s had it for a week, since the locksmith came and changed the locks, but this is the first time he’s used it, the first time he’s been here without Jordie. It slots into the lock, turns smooth and easy. Juice whines from inside, and Tyler steps in, locks the door behind him. He kicks off his shoes and then puts them in the coat closet so Juice can’t chew them up.

“Hey boy,” Tyler calls, soft. He goes to the crate and lets Juice out. The sitter has already been by to walk him. He’s still too mouthy to have free roam of the apartment when he’s alone, but Tyler lets him loose while he’s here. He puts the take-out from work into the fridge. There will be enough for him and Jordie at lunch tomorrow. He figures Jordie will be tired enough after that roadie that Tyler will come to him, so no reason to take the food home and then back here.

He’s not ready to sleep, and his place is too empty, too quiet with Livvie gone, for him to hang out there if he doesn’t have to. Jordie gets more channels than he does anyway. He gets the remote and flips through. Finds some show about a guy with a limp who sends an elite soldier out to help random people, following the advice of a computer that gives them numbers.

Juice isn’t allowed on the couch, and Tyler wants to pet him, so he lays down. Jordie’s couch is really comfortable, the throw pillows just the right fluffiness to rest his head.

He wakes to the sound of Juice’s nails on the entryway tile, a key in the lock. He opens his eyes, orients himself. Jordie’s. Right.

Jordie opens the door, his duffle bag and suit bag on his shoulder. Juice greets him with a wagging tail that thumps the wall beside him, little pat-pats of his front paws dancing in his excitement.

Tyler sits up on the couch from where he’d been laying, rubs his eyes.

“Hey.” His voice is rough with sleep, and Jordie goes to him, leans over him and kisses his forehead. Tyler closes his eyes, leans in. Jordie’s hand is warm and gentle on the back of his neck.

“Were you here all night?”

Tyler smiles up at him, sleepy-eyed and soft.

“Came by after work. Hung out with Juice for a while. Must have fallen asleep watching TV.”

Jordie carries his duffle bag on through. He’s got dirty laundry to drop in the washer, and he needs to hang up his suit. Tyler gets up and follows him, and Juice pads along with them too, a little parade to the laundry room.

“You’re welcome here anytime,” Jordie says. “It was a nice surprise. But uh, I got a bed here, you know…”

Jordie hazards a glance.

It’s not a come-on, not a request for sex; Tyler knows that much.

“I’d kind of like you to be there, the first night I spend in your bed.” It sounds flirtier than he means it, but Jordie doesn’t react, doesn’t turn and pin him to the nearest wall, doesn’t watch Tyler's lips like he’s imagining his dick between them.

“We could lay down a while. After I hang up my suit.”

Tyler waits for the feeling. The moment when a guy wants him, when he needs to read what they want from him, how to respond, how to position his body and shape his face.

Jordie edges past him and walks to the bedroom. Tyler drifts in his wake. He’s never actually been in Jordie’s bedroom. It’s pretty generic—white walls and ivory carpet, a bed framed in tan wood, half-heartedly made with a slate blue cover.

Jordie goes into the closet and hangs his suit. He takes his sweet time, brushing out wrinkles, straightening it on the hanger, putting the travel bag away with the same care. Tyler doesn’t know what Jordie _wants_. Doesn’t know how he should move or what he should say.

Jordie comes out of the closet.

“We don’t have to,” Jordie says.

Tyler knows that.

“Can you. Can I get a hug?”

“Yeah. ‘Course. Anytime.”

Jordie’s arms are warm and strong and he holds on with the perfect amount of pressure. Tyler wraps around Jordie’s ribs, feeling him breathe.

Tyler walks them backwards until the bed comes up behind his legs. The second he loosens his end of the hug, Jordie lets him go.

Tyler climbs up on the bed and knee-walks to the far side, drawing Jordie along with him.

Jordie follows, lays down when Tyler does, their heads on separate pillows, space between them on the king size bed. Tyler looks down where Jordie’s hand rests on the comforter, and he wants. Wants Jordie to be touching him with more than the gaze of his warm brown eyes.

“Is this okay?” Tyler asks. It doesn’t feel okay. Feels like he’s being a tease, like he’s not doing his job.

“I feel like I’m working but I’m doing it wrong,” he says before Jordie can find the words. It would be so much easier to beg Jordie to fuck him until he did.

Jordie slides his hand up and covers Tyler’s.

“You’re not at work,” he murmurs, soft. Tyler watches the way their fingers slide together, but he feels distant from the touch. “You’re not at work. You’re here with me and it’s impossible to do it wrong. Thank you for being here. Thank you for trusting me.”

It’s not trusting Jordie that’s the problem. The idea of Jordie hurting him in any way is ludicrous beyond imagining. Trusting himself is hard.

“I don’t want to be a tease. But I need to know you want me.”

Fuck, he is such an asshole, and Jordie deserves so much better than to be dealing with this mess.

Jordie breathes out and looks into Tyler’s eyes. Something in his gaze sparks to life, a warmth Tyler hadn’t sensed before. He raises a hand, strokes his thumb over Tyler’s cheek bone.

“I want you. I want you, but I want this to be good for you even more.”

Jordie closes his eyes, taking his desire and locking it away. He looks more wry when he opens them.

“My dick, my problem,” Jordie says, drawing a surprised smile to Tyler’s lips.

“Seriously. If I thought you were winding me up and shutting me down for shits and giggles, I’d say something.”

Jordie hasn’t lied to him yet—not that Tyler knows about at least.

“Can I touch you?” Jordie asks.

“Please.” He doesn’t think there’s any kind of touch Jordie would give him that Tyler wouldn’t like.

Jordie slips his hand from Tyler’s and then hesitates, his fingers inches from Tyler’s side.

“What’s it like, when it starts to feel like work?”

Tyler takes Jordie’s hand and puts it on his hip, solid.

“Like…like I’m watching as much as I’m feeling. Like I’m outside my body, trying to see it like the client sees it. Trying to judge the reaction to every motion and sound I make. Should I do that again? Should I avoid the other thing?”

The weight of Jordie’s hand settles on Tyler's hip, his thumb strokes the waistband of Tyler's jeans, but somehow it doesn’t feel sexual at all.

“How does it feel right now?”

Tyler huffs out a breath. “Scary.”

Jordie’s hand goes still. Tyler can feel him getting ready to pull away. He reaches out and puts his hand on Jordie’s side, closes his fingers in the waist of Jordie’s shirt.

“Not of you,” he hurries to say. “I’m not scared of you. I just. I like you enough that I’m scared of fucking up.”

Jordie settles back down.

“You can’t do it wrong. You can’t fuck it up.”

Tyler drags his teeth over his lower lip. It feels awkward, but he shifts forward, presses against Jordie at knee and forehead.

Jordie kisses him, more of a hello or a reward than moving the action on to the next thing, just a gentle brush of his mouth over Tyler’s.

“Just breathe,” Jordie murmurs. “Just be here with me.”

Tyler breathes.

===========

“Just breathe,” Jordie murmurs. “Just be here with me.”

Jordie takes his own advice, modeling calm, long slow breaths through his nose.

He loves his brother. He does. He doesn’t want to believe Jamie saw this and what, fucked Tyler anyway? Jamie can be kind of selfish sometimes. Jordie doesn’t love him so much he can’t see that. He didn’t have a clue that it was this bad, that he’d coddled Jamie to the point that Jamie thought anything he did was okay.

Tyler’s eyelids droop and close. Jordie doesn’t think he’s asleep, just doing the human version of the slow-blink that cats do when they trust you.

Jordie slides his hand up, rubs Tyler’s shoulder, his upper arm.

The last thing Tyler needs now is Jordie focusing on being pissed off at Jamie, no matter how much he might deserve it.

He brushes the back of his knuckles against Tyler’s cheek. Tyler frowns and Jordie stops.

“Is that too much?”

“I want you to touch me. I don’t want to put on an act when I react.”

Maybe this is what it’ll mean for a while—Tyler saying one thing, even as he holds himself back from showing he wants it.

He wants to urge Tyler to relax, but it seems counter-productive to give him requests to deny. Better to let it happen naturally.

“Whatever you want,” Jordie whispers. He strokes his thumb over the arch of Tyler’s eyebrow. Smooths his hair back from his temple. Simple touches and as far from sexual as he can make them.

The frown slowly fades, Tyler’s forehead going smooth again, the lines of tension disappearing.


	33. A new day ends

First of the month is clinic-day. Tyler goes down, pays his thirty bucks, gives a vial of blood.

Sixth of the month is results-day, and he stops at the mailbox on his way to the apartment stairs. He opens the letter there, skims the familiar marks on the paper. Another month without any changes.

Five more before he’ll consider himself officially in the clear.

=============

Jordie throws one last tennis ball for Juice. The goal of burning off some energy seems to be working. He’s not dashing after the ball before it leaves Jordie’s hand anymore. He chases it slower and comes back with his head hanging and tail wagging.

Jordie is about done too—he went at the gym a little hard that morning, and his trapezius is tight, just short of sore. Throwing the ball loosened it up some, but the muscles are tired now.

“Good boy,” Jordie says and crouches down to ruffle his fur. He can see Tyler and Livvie from here—she’s on the swing and he’s pushing her, trying to teach her how to pump her legs to keep herself going.

The sun is getting low on the horizon, the temperature falling. Jordie puts Juice’s ball into the bag of dog stuff and clips the leash onto his collar.

“Push me, Jordie!” Livvie calls when he’s close enough.

“Oh, am I not doing a good enough job?” Tyler asks, mock-insulted.

He steps aside, though, taking the leash, and Jordie trades off, pushing her for a little while.

“Higher, higher! That’s too high!” The sweet spot is very small.

“Five minutes,” Tyler warns.

Livvie grumps about it, but she doesn’t melt down when it’s time to go. Either it’s getting easier to tell when she’s tired but before she’s over-tired, or she’s just getting easier in general as she hits an emotional-growth spurt.

Jordie carries her piggy-back to Tyler’s car.

“Hey,” Tyler starts, as Jordie tucks Livvie into her seat and buckles her up.

“She’ll probably be asleep an hour or so after we eat. You want to come home with us? We could hang out after she’s in bed.”

Between Jordie’s job and Tyler’s, and making sure Juice gets fed and walked and taking care of a small child, they don’t get a lot of chances for adult alone-time. Neither of them wants to waste one.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Jordie has a zipper-bag of food in the bag with Juice’s ball and poop-bags, so he follows Tyler straight home. It’s a good night. Jordie sits on the floor with Juice and Livvie, while Tyler reheats some of the lasagna Jordie left in their fridge.

True to Tyler’s prediction, Livvie starts to wilt soon after that and Tyler takes her off for her bedtime routine.

Tyler goes into the bedroom for a while, cuddles Livvie and tells her a story. Jordie waits on the couch and plays with his phone until Tyler comes out, gently closing the door behind him.

Tyler makes a detour to the fridge and gets a pair of beers from the bottom drawer. He hands one to Jordie, puts the other on the coffee table and then drops one of the throw pillows off of the couch onto the floor at Jordie’s feet.

There’s a second where Jordie’s heart takes a stutter—they are nowhere near the blowjobs stage of this relationship, and sure as hell not blowjobs without even working up to it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tyler teases. “Scoot. Unless you don’t want me to massage out that muscle you’ve been favoring all day.”

Jordie blinks. Oh. Oh, right. He follows the order and scoots off of the couch. Tyler slides into the spot he just vacated, bracketing Jordie’s back with his shins. Juice comes over and flops down beside him, resting his chin on Jordie’s knee.

“The remote is there—it’s your turn to pick.”

Jordie gets the remote and turns on the tv. Hastily lowers the volume before Livvie wakes up. Juice pops his head up but settles again when there’s nothing to chase or eat.

The first touches of Tyler’s hands on Jordie’s back are gentle, smoothing his t-shirt and waking his skin up. Then he goes into a light massage, feeling out Jordie’s muscles, mapping the parts that make him wince.

“This alright?” Tyler asks.

Jordie groans, closes his eyes, and drops his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jordie doesn’t even get as far as changing the channel, and Pocoyo’s cheerful music accompanies the slow easing of Jordie’s aches. When Tyler’s hands get tired, he shifts to using the flat of his forearm, the curved point of his elbow. It’s not as deep as the trainers would work, but it feels like heaven.

Bit by bit, Tyler’s touches go light again, until he’s brushing his fingertips over Jordie’s shoulders. Jordie sighs and tips his head back, looking at Tyler upside down. Tyler leans over him and kisses his forehead.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Come up here with me and pick out a real show.”

Jordie feels floppy, muscles so relaxed that they don’t want to listen, but he gets up on the couch and brings the remote with him. Tyler bullies him to the end of the couch, turns around and puts his head in Jordie’s lap. Jordie runs his fingers through Tyler’s short hair.

Channels flick by on the tv as Jordie browses through them. There’s some kind of “Amazing Animals” show on, and he pauses there.

“I’m thinking of moving,” Jordie says. He knows it’s kind of an odd subject change, but he doesn’t think there will be a better time. It’s easier to talk about this when he’s not looking at Tyler.

“Hm?” Tyler asks. “How come?”

Jordie mulls over the words he wants to say, doing his best to take any edge they might have off of them.

“I want a place I haven’t shared with my brother,” he says, careful. “I don’t know if it’s hard for you to be there, where…”

Tyler makes another little hum of agreement. Jordie doesn’t need to finish that thought out loud.

“I was thinking I’d get another two bedroom. I could get the second one made up for Livvie. Nothing fancy, just so she’d have her own place there. Some toys and crayons, a bed she could nap in.” He’d love to give her the world, but the last thing he wants to do is create another ‘perfect’ kid’s room for Tyler to feel he has to compete with.

Tyler nuzzles against Jordie’s thigh like a big cat, and Jordie keeps petting him.

“I’m not asking you to move in,” he says. “I mean…” He’d like it. He’d love it to wake up to Tyler every morning, Livvie’s mess of toys creeping like the tide from her room across every part of his home.

“Early days still,” Tyler agrees. It’s not a ‘never’.

They watch the animal show and drink their beers.

“Hey,” Tyler says, and Jordie realizes he’d been almost asleep. “You want to stay here tonight?”

Jordie weighs the pros and cons—he wouldn’t have to drive tired, but the couch is not the best surface to sleep on, especially since he already has aches and pains.

“I mean, I know it’s not a king-size like yours, but we could…”

Tyler sits up and turns to face him, and Jordie leans in, lays a simple kiss against Tyler’s lips. There’s not much they can do with a kid in the room, but maybe that’s part of it, why Tyler would make the offer.

“You got some sweats I could borrow?”

“Yeah.”

Tyler gets up and goes to get the clothes. Jordie takes them with him into the bathroom, changes clothes and makes a spot for Juice to sleep where he can’t chew everything up while the people are asleep.

He rinses his face and rubs some toothpaste on his teeth with his finger. He really needs to get a spare and leave it here.

Tyler is by the door, already changed into loose sleep pants and a t-shirt when Jordie comes out. “My turn,” he says, and nods Jordie towards the bedroom.

For some reason it’s more awkward to be in the place Tyler sleeps now than it had been when he was concussed. Something about intent, Jordie thinks. He straightens the bed before he gets in. Tyler might be able to sleep in a tangled wad of sheets and blankets, but Jordie won’t be able to. Tyler’s phone, plugged into the wall by the bed, is making a steady static noise. If he does make a Livvie-room, he’ll have to get one of the little white noise machines for it.

Tyler comes out and Jordie is still standing up.

“You want the wall or the edge?” Jordie asks.

“I should probably take the edge in case Livvie wakes up.”

“Is that the side you want?”

Tyler hesitates and then climbs into bed, pressing himself against the wall and leaving room for Jordie.

It is seriously not a bed made for two above-average-height and fully-grown men to sleep in, but it’s better when Jordie turns onto his side and Tyler fits himself up against Jordie’s back.

Jordie is a big fan of sleeping not-alone, and that it’s Tyler just makes it better.

“Daddy?” Livvie’s voice wakes Jordie up, an unknown amount of time later. By the glow of the night-light, he can see her beside the bed, her lower lip trembling, her favorite blanket in hand.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here.”

He should probably get up and let Tyler out or something. Livvie, apparently, has a different plan, because she’s scrambling up the bed before he can, pointy elbows digging in as she climbs over him. He puts out a hand to keep her from falling and gets her full weight on his stomach, concentrated in her small, small knee.

“Oof.”

She settles on top of them like the pictures Rouss was showing around the locker room--a kitten sleeping curled up on a large fluffy dog. Livvie is on top of their blanket and under hers.

“Uh, I could get up and move her,” Tyler offers.

“I’m guessing the odds are good that she’ll just come right back?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Jordie sighs and relaxes again. “Don’t be. Not like she takes up much space. May as well leave her.”

They sleep. When Jordie wakes up, they’ve shifted around. Livvie is by the wall, tucked into the hollow between Tyler’s knees and chin. Jordie has rolled over to cup around him—there’s no other way to sleep that wouldn’t result in him falling out of the bed.

Tyler makes a sleepy “Huh?” and Jordie kisses the back of his neck.

“Go back to sleep.”

Tyler’s head doesn’t go back down to his pillow. “Time’sit?”

Jordie picks up Tyler’s phone and turns it on. “Almost seven.”

Tyler gently disentangles from Livvie.

“Alarm’s gonna go off in a minute.”

It’s quiet and easy, the two of them getting ready for their day together. Tyler pulls a toothbrush from the cabinet, new in the package, and passes it over. It’s bright purple. With little flowers. Jordie grins and takes it.

Tyler showers while Jordie takes Juice down for his walk. Livvie is awake and grumpy when he gets back, sitting at her little table in front of the TV, glaring down at her Cheerios.

“See?” Tyler says as Jordie steps inside. “Told you he didn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Livvie gets up from her seat and rushes over. Jordie crouches down to her height…and is totally passed up for her to hug Juice.

Jordie chuckles and shakes his head. “I guess I know where I stand,” he teases as he goes to the kitchen to see if he can lend a hand.


	34. Hi mom

“Hey, Mom.”

There’s nothing unusual about the timing of the call. Jordie doesn’t manage to talk to his parents every week, but he tries. Middle of the day Dallas time hits breakfast in Saanich. 

“Jordie. What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Jordie smiles and shakes his head. It’s a sixth sense. Seriously.

“Nothing is wrong at all,” he says, although still not talking to Jamie is far from right. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“I’m listening…” There’s only a bit of wariness in her voice.

“I’m seeing somebody?”

“You are or you aren’t or you aren’t sure?”

Jordie takes a breath. His parents love him. This isn’t an issue. “I ah, I am. I’m sure.”

“So what’s her name? Where’s she from, what does she do?” Trust his mom to tease even as she digs for information.

“His uh, his name’s Tyler, and he’s from Toronto, and he’s a bartender. And a dad.”

There are three long seconds of silence. 

“He? Oh. Oh, he, right. Is this…are you serious? Is he serious?” 

He gets that it was a surprise. She seems to have recovered well.

“We’re taking it slow. There’s some history. But yeah. I’m. I love him.”

“So tell me about him. Is he older than you? How old is his child? What’s their name?”

Jordie smiles. God, he loves his family.

“He’s younger; he’s twenty two. His daughter is Livvie. Olivia, but only his ex’s parents call her that. She’s four now…”

He skirts around mentioning Jamie’s history with Tyler, or Tyler’s old job, or the shit-storm that is Tyler’s relationship with his ex and her parents. 

It surprises him, how much there is to say, how much he knows about Tyler, how much he likes. 

Mom goes quieter as Jordie talks. 

“Jordie…” she starts, hesitates. “Is this…this wasn’t what the fight with Jamie was about, was it? I can’t believe something like that would bother him. You two have always been so close.”

Jordie takes a breath, tries to make a mental map across this minefield of not telling Jamie’s secrets while also not lying to his mother. 

“It wasn’t something homophobic, if that’s what you mean.” Okay, that’s a good start. Also, it’s all he’s got. “I can’t speak for Jamie beyond that. I don’t know what the crap he was thinking.”

“Jordie,” Mom starts, soft and worried, but he didn’t call to talk about Jamie. She must sense it because her voice brightens. “So when do we get to meet him?”

==========

 

 

Jordie’s time with Tyler is measured in minutes, more often than hours. Meeting Jordie after practice, having lunch up in Frisco between his nap, and picking Livvie up at school. Late nights, Jordie coming home to Tyler or Tyler coming home to Jordie almost every night Livvie is with her grandparents. 

Nights like this - no game, no work, Livvie with Mrs. Busari for a couple more hours - are few and far between. They cook together: dinner for the night and extra for the freezer. 

“TV?” Jordie asks when the dishwasher is loaded. 

Tyler licks his lips and looks down at the counter. “I was thinking bedroom. We could. I dunno. See how far we get.”

Jordie looks Tyler over, trying to see where this is coming from, how he’s feeling about it.

“We don’t have to rush,” Jordie says. 

The corners of Tyler’s mouth tic up. “I’m not afraid of sex. You get that, right? I’m scared of fucking it up. I’m scared of not being able to stay out of work’s headspace. But I’m not afraid of you. And I’d kind of like to make out with my boyfriend.”

Jordie holds out his hand and Tyler steps to him. He leans down and Tyler tips his head back. They kiss, and Jordie puts his passion into it, how much he loves Tyler, how fucking beautiful he is. 

Tyler stops kissing back. His hands tighten on Jordie’s biceps. Shit. Jordie starts to pull back but Tyler holds him with enough strength that Jordie thinks he wants Jordie to stay.

“Don’t leave,” Tyler breathes, pressing against him. Jordie can feel Tyler’s dick through his jeans, jutting against his hip. 

“Just. I might have to get you to wait while I catch up. So I don’t go on auto-pilot.”

“I don’t want to rush you.”

“I want you to touch me.”

They smile at each other, foreheads together. Touching is something Jordie can do. He gets a hold of Tyler’s jeans by his belt loops, teasingly tugging one then the other to draw him towards the bedroom. 

Tyler goes, easy and sweet. Pliant. As they get to the edge of the bed, he turns, lays down and pulls Jordie on top of him. There is another of those odd freezes, Tyler taking a heading and adjusting course. 

Then he arches up against Jordie, shoulders coming up after his hips go down and stealing another kiss. 

“What do you want?” Jordie whispers. He can’t think of anything Tyler could ask for that he wouldn’t be willing to give. 

“I want…I want your skin on my skin. I wanna get rid of these fucking clothes like five minutes ago.”

Jordie leans down and kisses him again, gentle. If Tyler is scared of fucking up their relationship, Jordie is scared of fucking up _Tyler_. 

Skin, Jordie can do. Naked, he’s not quite sure about, not sure if they’re there yet.

But yeah. Skin. He rolls off of Tyler and reaches down to his own jeans first. Opens the button and wriggles them down, kicks them off the foot of the bed. It’s nothing Tyler hasn’t seen already, Jordie’s bare legs. His boxer briefs cover just less than the shorts he sleeps in sometimes. 

Tyler flicks his gaze from Jordie’s eyes to his own fly and back up. Invitation. Almost an order. 

Jordie sits up. His fingers shake just a little as he unfastens Tyler’s pants, as he pulls down the zipper. He’s never done it so slow, so focused. Not with a man, at least. His other times had been so rushed, teenage boys grinding against each other, scrambling to get hands on dicks and then just as hurriedly escaping the awkwardness of the afterglow.

Tyler makes a little noise. A breath that doesn’t go smooth into his lungs. Jordie pauses, thumbs rubbing at Tyler’s hips. Tyler throws an arm over his eyes, lifts his butt off of the bed so Jordie can pull his pants down. It seems a dick move to leave him hanging, so he pulls them down his thighs.

Tyler is quiet, his face hidden, silent, except for the catch and sigh of his breath. 

It’s heartbreaking more than sexy and Jordie’s hard-on is halfway to soft. Tyler’s is too, he notices when he gets Tyler’s pants off. 

Tyler was either here for an orgasm or intimacy. If one is off the table, and it seems to be, then they’ll enjoy the other one. 

Jordie sits back and takes one of Tyler’s feet in his hands, puts the sole of it against his chest and starts to rub and massage the swell of his calf, the spaces between the tendons. 

Tyler’s arm jerks away from his face and he stares up at Jordie like the two of them have never met. 

“It’s okay,” Jordie says. 

“We can still—” Tyler nods at Jordie’s crotch.

Jordie could probably get his body to respond. Could probably get Tyler to come if he tried hard enough. It would be release, but not good for him, good for them.

Jordie works at Tyler’s calf, feels his tension slowly ease. 

“I’d rather do this, and have you here.” He doesn’t know how to name the alternative without sounding like he isn’t attracted to Tyler. 

He puts a thumb on either side of the patellar tendon, eases around the knee cap. He’s had enough trainers working on his body that he has a rough idea what he’s doing, and nothing has enough force behind it to do any kind of harm. 

Tyler’s eyes close and Jordie works into the muscles where the quads hit the knee. 

A muscle in Tyler’s jaw clenches.

“Too hard?” 

“No. I just. Don’t know how to make a sound like I like it without…”

“Without making it all about me?”

“Yeah.”

“Would it be easier if I closed my eyes?”

Tyler snorts. Okay, it was only a half-serious suggestion.

Jordie gets both thumbs into the muscle on the back of Tyler’s thigh, harder on the large muscle, lighter when he gets up behind the knee. And that’s…about as high as Jordie thinks he should go tonight. He puts Tyler’s foot gently on the bed and switches to the other. 

“I wish Ian were here,” Tyler says, head turned away and quiet, like he half-hopes Jordie won’t hear.

That. Okay, Jordie’s first reaction to that is pain, and he loses track of what muscle group he was working on. Tyler didn’t end that comment with _instead of you_. It doesn’t mean this is failing before it even got going.

“Is it…were you two together?” He doesn’t think Tyler would be seeing someone else, but Tyler’s ideas of what ‘normal’ relationships entail might not be the same as Jordie’s. 

“It was never like a romance thing. He got me into the biz. Showed me the ropes, and _showed me the ropes_.” Tyler waggles his eyebrows, but Jordie isn’t ready for humor. 

The false cheer falls from Tyler’s face and he looks up at Jordie, softer and thoughtful.

“He just. He’s good to work with. When we were doing doubles. I could just…be and feel and I didn’t have to…”

Jordie works up the front of Tyler’s shin. Takes his time to frame his words. 

“How did that work? What was. Why did it help?”

“Hm. It was safer, with him there to make sure the client wasn’t gonna slip me a roofie, or go in a direction that wasn’t on my menu. He could read the clients and guide me through without me having to think so much. I knew he wouldn’t let me miss a cue or read it wrong. And if I somehow did, it was less likely to go ugly on me.”

Jordie is almost done with the second leg—he debates whether to work on hands next, or stay down here and massage his feet. 

“That happen a lot?” He wishes he could take the words back as soon as he says them. It’s. None of his business. 

Tyler doesn’t seem offended though. His voice is still smooth, easy.

“I had two in the year I was working. Not counting the accidental fall in the shower. One went off-menu. I had to call it, and he got rough. Grabbed my arm. The other one. That was what Jamie saw. He, uh, he hit me. And then tried to choke me. I got out of there, but it was mostly luck. Could have been a lot worse. I kinda wonder sometimes, what he did with the shoes I left.”

Jordie rests his cheek against the inside of Tyler’s calf. It’s over and done, and Tyler is alive and well. 

Tyler pets Jordie’s thigh with his other foot. 

“This felt really, really good,” he says. “The massage, I mean.”

“Would it help? Having Ian here? Taking the pressure off of you to read my needs? Not for. Not for sex with us, just. Like a spotter. So you’d know you were safe.”

Tyler pulls his foot out of Jordie’s gentle grip and scoots over so he’s not dead center in the bed. 

“I don’t wish Ian was here,” Tyler says as Jordie crawls up to cuddle against him. “I wish. I wish I could feel like I do when he’s there, but without him actually here.”

Jordie puts his arm over Tyler’s ribs.

“We’ll get there,” he promises. “We’ll just. Take it slower. Do things that aren’t sex but still feel good. It’ll come, it’ll come.”

“Yeah, but _I_ want to come too.”

Jordie brushes his fingers over Tyler’s waist, digs in just a little, enough to tickle, enough to make him squirm.


	35. Living the dream

**Jordie:**  
_Hey._

 **Tyler:**  
_Hi?_

 **Jordie:**  
_You got time this week to look at apartments?_

Tyler stares at the text for a while, sitting in the back room of Abrea, waiting for the restaurant to open. It’s. Hmm. So many ways Jordie could mean it.

Tyler calls.

“Tyler, hey.” Jordie is on the west coast this week, a three game roadie. He doesn’t really text unless he has time and attention span to dedicate to it. He’s never left Tyler hanging for hours in the middle of a conversation. Unless he’s out with the guys, Tyler doesn’t think it would be a problem to call him. The warm welcome in Jordie’s voice confirms it.

“Hi. So. Apartment hunting?” It’s a vague enough opening that he’ll get to hear what Jordie had in mind without forcing him to agree or counter Tyler’s first impression.

“Yeah.” Jordie’s voice goes even softer. “The rent on this place is a little more than I want to spend, and it’s not really _mine_ , you know? So I want to go somewhere else. It’s like when I got Juice. I don’t want to live somewhere that you don’t want to go, or where Livvie wouldn’t be happy.”

“Jordie. We’ll be happy to visit you wherever you are.” Tyler can’t believe words that sappy have come out of his mouth, and it amazes him that he actually means them.

“If I narrow it down to a few, will you check it out before I sign?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

==========

Jordie’s new place is north of the old one, closer to Tyler and the practice rink and a little further from the AAC. He loses some after-game convenience, but it’s easier in every other way. He gains some square footage. It’s got a better layout in the kitchen, especially if two people are going to work together there.

The second bedroom is a good size, and there are two nice bathrooms. The park half a block away has swings.

He signs a nine month lease and goes furniture shopping.

=============

The Tuesday night game at the Richardson Stars Center is strictly a pick-up game, though Tyler tells Jordie there are a lot of regulars. Jordie knows he tries to hit it when he can. When a night out with the Stars gets canceled, Jordie gets in his truck and heads across town and north up 75. He might even make it in time to see the puck drop.

He takes the exit off the highway and down a four-lane road, following his GPS’s directions. He doesn’t see the Stars Center at first—it’s pushed back from the road, behind a Sonic and a dry-cleaner. Jordie sees Tyler’s car and parks a few down from it. Half the lot is empty—probably less people showing up for walk-on hockey than the figure skating. Not many spectators.

There are only three other people watching, sitting in the middle row of a five-high set of bleachers behind the net—a child doing homework, an older woman reading a book and a teenager with a Star Center work-shirt on. Jordie climbs up and sits to the side, beside them. He looks down at the bench, players with miss-matched gear and a bib thrown over whatever sweater they’re wearing to identify white team and blue team.

It takes Jordie a second to find Tyler, unused to seeing his face behind a helmet’s grid, his body-language changed by pads and the stick in his hands. When he does, Tyler is on the blue team, leaning forward with his elbows on the boards in front of the bench.

There’s nothing like a coach for either team, and only one person kind-of playing referee. They drop the first puck and it starts. It’s the kind of game where there’s no strategy to the order of players or match-ups. Guys get out there, play until they’re tired or their own team starts booing them for being an ice hog. The order on the bench is the order they jump in. It looks like Tyler will be the last on his team to get ice time, and he’s watching the other players intently.

It’s not good hockey, but it is enthusiastic and friendly and it gives Jordie nostalgic feelings for home, for street hockey games and meeting up with the guys.

Jordie starts paying more attention to the game when Tyler is close to playing, so he sees when Tyler gets up from his spot, lets half the bench go ahead of him and slots himself into a different spot.

Not getting as much time to play as a person possible can is an alien concept. Jordie can’t think of a reason for it unless Tyler’s had problems with someone on the other team. He watches until the other team has all-new guys on the ice though, and nobody seems to be throwing their weight around or skating recklessly.

Three more men come off the ice and Tyler taps the guy in front of him. He’s younger than the rest, looks even shorter next to Tyler’s height. His skating isn’t as confident coming onto the ice. Tyler says something to him, circling around to skate backwards. The guy nods and Tyler slips away, goes out and steals the puck from the opposing player who had it and glides it over to his buddy.

Jordie shakes his head. That’s one way to get a workout when nobody can give him a challenge. Tyler has to chase down wide passes, find holes that aren’t holes when his liney isn’t in position. He dances around the other team’s defense all by himself and then makes an unnecessary pass to the weaker player when he could have just taken the shot. The other player panics and shoots wild and the puck sweeps around the back of the net and onto the sticks of the white team.

“Shit!” Jordie says, and the mom looks back over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” he says, attention on the ice. Tyler is skating off with his line-mate, patting the kid on the shoulder and diagraming plans in the air with his other hand, despite holding his stick on that side.

Shift after shift, the offensiveness of the situation just grows. Jordie can’t tell _exactly_ how good Tyler is with nobody out there to compare him to, but he aches to see him in real gear on better ice, playing against opponents that push him to his limits.

Because god damn, it just isn’t right that someone with that kind of hockey is working in a bar.

=================

  
The game ends, eventually. Tyler’s team won by two, but considering it’s eight-to-six, two isn’t as huge as it could have been if Tyler had gone all out. The guys start coming off the ice—Tyler and his protege take up the rear, Tyler talking animatedly but Jordie can’t hear what he’s saying.

It wasn’t his game—he’s got no right to share the post-victory high, but it’s Tyler. He finds himself walking where the rink opens out into the corridor that runs to the party rooms and locker rooms, torn between grinning at the win and frowning at the injustice of wasted talent.

He’s not sure what to say, how ‘out’ Tyler is with strange hockey players, or how he’ll explain a more affectionate greeting, so he holds his fist out for Tyler to bump as he goes by.

“No, I’m serious, I think that’s Jordie Benn over there,” someone says behind Jordie, but he doesn’t turn.

“What would a pro hockey player be doing watching a pickup game?” his friend answers.

Tyler’s gaze flicks behind Jordie—he sees the guys who are talking.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Tyler says, nodding towards the locker room.

The ‘fans’ keep debating, and Jordie wonders if or when they’ll find their nerve, or if Tyler will come out first.

Tyler comes out first, indents from his helmet still on his forehead, wiping his neck with a dry towel. Jordie knows how long it takes to shower and change, and he had nowhere near time to do both.

Tyler nods towards the front doors and Jordie follows him out, a step or two behind him.

Tyler leads around the building—there’s a recessed side door and Tyler steps into the alcove. Jordie crowds in across from him, close and cozy.

“Hey,” Tyler says. “Everything okay? You looked…”

Jordie’s not quite sure what he looked like. Some kind of worked up, for sure.

Jordie runs his hands through his hair, agitated now that he’s thinking about it again.

“Yeah, no. I just. I kind of thought Jamie was exaggerating when he said you were so good. Seeing you here, when you could be playing pro, when you could be _trying_ …”

Tyler blinks once, like it’s the last thing he expected.

“Can we take this on the road? I’m stinky and tired and starving.”

Jordie manages to put together a genuine smile. “Yeah. ‘Course. You want to drive together somewhere, or meet at home?”

Tyler barely hesitates.

“There any of that fettuccine stuff left?”

Jordie loses a little more tension.

“Yeah. There’s enough for a meal, maybe two. I could throw on some chicken breast.”

Tyler nods. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Jordie checks over his shoulder and then leans in and kisses Tyler’s temple, sweat and all.

“Mmm, salty.”

“You’re salty,” Tyler gripes back, but he’s smiling.

==========

 

Jordie beats Tyler home, pulls the chicken breasts out and starts them defrosting in a baggie in the sink.

He’s still flipping between the surge of pride and elation seeing Tyler playing like that, dripping with potential, and the bitter anger at a world so unfair that that kind of talent was left by the wayside. It’s been a couple years, but he still knows some guys in the head office of the Allen Americans. Enough that he thinks he could get Tyler on the ice for their summer training camp. That’s six months away, plenty of time to get Tyler with a professional trainer.

The door opens and Tyler comes in, hockey bag hanging on his shoulder, his hair dried to sweat-stiff spikes.

“Hey,” he says, like he’s ready to talk right away, but they’ve got time and Jordie can’t imagine having this kind of conversation between a game and a shower.

“Go get cleaned up,” Jordie tells him. “Food’ll be ready when you’re done.”

Tyler waves and goes through, and Jordie starts picking out what seasoning mixes he wants on the chicken. Maybe BBQ on one, lemon-pepper on the other and let Tyler pick which he wants to eat.

There’s only five minutes left on the timer for the chicken when Tyler comes out of the bathroom, dressed in loose sweats and drying his hair with a towel.

“Smells good,” he says, and Jordie knows hockey hunger so he goes ahead and plates half the fettuccine even though the meat’s not ready.

“Eat, eat. Chicken’s on the way.” He itches to open the oven, to see how it looks, but the timer is still going and he’s learned that letting the heat out every three minutes is one of his recurring mistakes.

Tyler starts eating and Jordie puts his own pasta on a plate.

“You were looking really good out there,” he says. “Good as anybody could, given the competition.”

Tyler grunts and feeds his face. “They’re a good bunch of guys,” he says after he’s chewed and swallowed.

Jordie shrugs. There are good guys in hockey everywhere. “Good guys but not much of a challenge.”

Tyler cocks his head. “Should be better once I’m on an actual team.”

“It’ll still be rec hockey,” Jordie says. He’s trying not to sound like a snob, but. Well, okay he’s maybe kind of a snob.

Tyler frowns. The timer goes off and Jordie puts on oven mitts and pulls the pan out. The chicken looks good on the outside. He puts them on a plate and slices them both open, checking that they’re done inside. Yes. Success. …Except that neither the lemon or the BBQ are exactly in harmony with the alfredo sauce on the noodles. Oh well.

“I know you’ve got that mental block,” Jordie says as he brings the meat to the table and finally takes his own chair. “But I mean, there are people who fix that kind of thing.”

Tyler doesn’t seem particularly pissed that his boyfriend is suggesting he get psychiatric help. Resigned, and a little sad, maybe.

“Jordie, it’s. What would be the point?”

Jordie opens his mouth and closes it again. “You could play hockey. You could play hockey _all the time_.” He doesn’t think he needs to remind Tyler that he loves hockey. His face on the ice had been proof enough of that.

Tyler shakes his head. “That’s just not realistic.”

“Well no, I mean you’ll need some coaching, some practice with better players, maybe you could get on a local college team…”

Tyler closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t mean making a team. I can’t—there was a point, when that was all I dreamed of. But it would get in the way of the things I dream of now. Being a good dad. Taking care of Livvie.”

He looks up at Jordie, his gaze tender.

“Being a good partner to you. How can I be all that and travel with a team?”

Jordie stares at him. That. Shit. He knows exactly how much of a person’s life playing pro takes up, even just at the ECHL level. Travel and team shit and promotions.

He swallows and realizes he’s leaning forward in his chair. He lets out a breath and leans back.

“How do you not resent the hell out of us?” he asks.

Tyler balls up his napkin and throws it at Jordie’s head. It’s too light to be aerodynamic and falls to the table between them.

“Because I love you guys, asshole.”

His smile is fond before it fades into seriousness. “If I’d never got hurt, if I’d kept playing, if I never had Livvie, then yeah, I might resent whatever made me stop. But that’s not the way things went. I’m happy. How could I resent the things that make me happy?”

Jordie shakes his head. Of course not, it’s just.

Tyler gets up and comes around the table and Jordie hugs him around the waist, leans in. It’s a dumb dream, and incompatible with Tyler’s life right now; it’s just going to take Jordie a little while to mourn.


	36. Planning the holidays

“I don’t want to go!”

Livvie’s face is red, covered in tears and snot and spit. “I don’t want to go! Please, daddy!”

Tyler kneels in front of her, his heart breaking. This is the second time she hasn’t wanted to see her grandparents. Last time she’d whined and fussed and he didn’t think too much of it. She didn’t seem in a rush to leave that visit or the one before.

“I know, baby. I know, I’m so sorry. But we have to. We have to go. It’s the law.”

Shit, they’re running out of time. If he’s ten minutes late, he suspects there will be an APB or Amber Alert out for him.

“Why, Livvie? Why don’t you want to go?”

He knows Mrs. Hudson barely tolerates him, but his biggest complaint about the care she gives his child is that she spoils her rotten. He can’t imagine her letting any harm come to Livvie on her watch.

“I don’t want to go!” she howls again.

Fuck. He doesn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry, Livvie, I am so sorry.”

He scoops her up and carries her to the car. Puts her in her seat and pulls up her show on his phone. She finally settles, distracted by the bouncy characters and cheerful music.

He has to blot the tears out of his eyes before he can drive.

============

 **Jamie:**  
_You coming home for christmas?_

 **Jamie:**  
_I don’t ant to fight_  
 _Want_

 **Jamie:**  
_If you’re coming and you don’t want me there I won’t come_

**Jamie:**   
_If you dont want me there just tell me_

**Jamie:**  
_Or if you do want me there tell me that_

Jordie stares at the string of messages, hours apart.

He has no intention of replying, but it does remind him he needs to ask Tyler. It’s no rush though, so he waits until he’s back in Dallas, waits until it’s him and Tyler shopping for groceries just before the store closes.

“They’re really killing us with the Christmas music in here.”

Tyler grins and bumps shoulders, making Jordie take a step to the side, almost into the dairy case. “Like you didn’t get the biggest tree on the lot and half a store worth of decorations.”

“Hey! There was a bigger one. I just didn’t have a crane to set it up, or I would have.”

Tyler rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“You going north for Christmas?” Jordie asks. It’s only December first, but it seems like Tyler should have at least an idea by now, and he hasn’t talked about buying tickets.

“Nah. Can’t.”

Jordie raises an eyebrow and opens a carton of eggs like his mom taught him to, checking for broken ones. “Huh? Why ‘can’t?’”

Tyler sighs. “It’s. Part of the custody thing. When Livvie was born, the Hudsons were talking about taking her away, rather than let me go home with her. They were saying I was an unfit parent, and all this stuff. I was scared, and they offered a compromise. It stayed out of court and they paid a little child support. In exchange, they get their visitation days, and I have to get their permission to leave the state with her.”

Jordie frowns. It sounds like bullshit to him. Not ‘Tyler is lying’ bullshit, but ‘that can’t be right’ bullshit.

“Have you like—hired a lawyer or something?”

Tyler shakes his head. “It wasn’t much of a hardship when I needed the free childcare and didn’t have money for travel anyway. It seemed like a good thing. I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought it would be good for someone else who loved her to check on her every few weeks. In case I wasn’t doing a good job.”

He looks off. Pensive.

“But now?”

Tyler sighs. “Now, I’d say they’re kind of shitty people to me, but they’re good to Livvie and she’s happy to see them. Except.”

They wind through the meat section and Jordie pulls out the list they made from the recipes they wanted to try.

“Except what?”

“She uh. She didn’t want to go last time. And she wasn’t super-enthused the time before that. She seemed happy when I picked her up, but. I dunno. I dunno what to do about it.”

Jordie stands there with a rump roast in his hands. He licks his lips. “What are you thinking? What are you gonna do?”

Tyler takes a breath. “I was gonna give it another of their weekends. Kids go through phases. With you and Juice and all, maybe she’s just having so much fun she doesn’t want to leave it.”

He says it like he’s not sure he believes it.

“Maybe we should call a lawyer ahead of time,” Jordie says. “Just in case.”

Tyler sighs. “Can’t hurt.”

 

============

Tyler carries Livvie down the balcony from Mrs. Busari’s door to his own, propping her up on his shoulder so he can get at his keys. It’s too late by the time Mrs. Busari is getting up for work to put Livvie back in the car and drive back to Jordie’s, but the number of nights or parts of nights the two of them spend there seems to grow every week. He can see a day coming where it seems dumb to keep two apartments, but for now, he’s glad to have it.

The door swings open and he locks it behind him. Carries her to her little toddler bed and tucks her in. She’s getting big. That might be something else they’ll have to retire, maybe when they move the rest of the way out of this place.

He pulls the blanket over her and goes to take care of his own night-time routine. One disadvantage to his schedule and Jordie’s schedule and Mrs. Busari’s schedule is that he only gets a full eight hours on nights when he doesn’t work. Pulling on his sleep pants and t-shirt and crawling into bed feels amazing, even if it isn’t Jordie’s memory-foam amazeballs king-size.

He falls asleep in minutes, the white noise playing on his phone soothing him to sleep.

“Daddy?”

There are few things that’ll get a parent awake faster than the sound of their kid in distress.

“Livvie?” he sits up. By the glow of the night-light he can see her sitting up in her bed.

She hiccups and sobs and he scrambles over to her, running his hands over her hair, over her shoulders. “Oh, baby baby baby, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

She shakes her head.

“Are you hurt? Does something hurt?”

She shakes her head.

Tyler scoops her up and…shit. Well, piss to be more accurate. It’s been months, nearly a year since she’s had an accident. He lifts her up and carries her to the bathroom. Holds her while he turns on the bath. Rocks her and pats her back while it runs.

“Do you feel sick? Does your belly hurt?”

She nods yes and then shakes her head no.

He takes a breath, the adrenaline rush fading. “You’re okay,” he murmurs into her hair. “It’s an accident. Accidents happen.”

=========

The Hudsons have done the house in blue this Christmas, an icy wonderland with a life-size sculpture of Elsa front and center. Great. There are about five miles of strung lights, spinning can-lights, a fountain that glimmers in it all.

Tyler can see the glow from the other end of the block, it’s so bright.

Livvie doesn’t look apprehensive anymore—on the way over, she remembered that her grandmother makes cookies. She gets out and runs over the slabs the artificial snow, spinning her arms around like she expects it to start snowing on her command.

Tyler takes the distraction to go up the sidewalk and ring the bell.

Mrs. Hudson is just as coiffed and made-up and perfect as always. Tyler moistens his lips.

“Hi, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Hello, Tyler.” She looks vaguely befuddled why he is speaking to her.

“Hey, I was just wondering. Have you noticed Livvie acting different when she’s here? She’s been acting off for a few weeks now. Wetting the bed, crying at weird times.”

“I’ve noticed nothing of the sort.” They watch Livvie talking excitedly to the Elsa statue.

Tyler takes a breath. “Has anything changed here? Like a major remodel or something?”

“No, nothing like that. If it only happens when she’s in your care, might it be something to do with that environment?”

Tyler takes a breath against the terror those words put into his chest. He reminds himself that he isn’t some eighteen year old kid anymore. That he has a stable job and a stable relationship and the money for lawyers sitting in his safety deposit box, should he ever need it.

He’s not going to get any further with her. It’s like talking to a brick wall. A marble wall, cold and smooth, not a single crack showing.

“Okay. I was just wondering. I’ll just. See you Sunday?”

“Of course.”

Livvie comes up with a styrofoam snowball that she liberated from one of the displays. “Daddy, look, snow!” and she beans him in the chest with it.

“Oof. Wow girl, you’re getting an arm on you.”

“I have two arms on me,” she informs him.

“Oh, Tyler, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for Christmas Eve like last year. You are certainly invited.”

Tyler smile is as stiff as the snowmen congregated around a snow-tree. “I’ll have to think about it. See what my work schedule looks—”

Livvie tugs on his jacket. “No. No, you said. You said we can do Christmas at Jordie’s.”

Tyler basks in the glow of triumph. Eat that, Mrs. Hudson.

“Hmm,” Tyler considers. “Maybe we could switch your weekend to the one right after Christmas? I could drop her off a little early that Friday.”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Hudson says. “Now who wants to frost a cake?”

She holds a hand out to Livvie and starts to walk in.

“You gotta say goodbye,” Livvie tells her, stalling at the threshold. “Bye Daddy, love you.” She tries to turn to wave, a tricky task with her other hand in Mrs. Hudson’s.

He waves. “Bye baby. I love you too.”

Livvie tugs Mrs. Hudson’s hand. “Say bye,” she stage-whispers.

“Goodbye, Tyler. Have a nice evening.”

“I certainly will,” he says to the closed door when she’s gone.


	37. Having the guys over

Jordie’s not sure how he got nominated to host the guys watching some of the World Junior championships. Fiddler had been complaining over team dinner about the team always at his house, messing up the place, and had turned the mob onto Jordie with “Hey, you haven’t hosted anything since your brother left. You gotta have us over sometime, why not now?”

It’s not like Jordie can say ‘let me ask my boyfriend,’ seeing that he’s never actually told anybody on the team that he has one. Fiddler raises a challenging eyebrow when Jordie hesitates.

“Ugh, fine. Bring beer and chips.”

He excuses himself from the table as soon thereafter as he can without raising suspicions and texts Tyler from the stall in the men’s room.

 **Jordie** :  
_Guys want to come over the third for world jr comp_

 **Tyler:**  
_Pretty sure I’m working_

 **Jordie:**  
_Is it okay for them to come?_

He’s not quite sure how he’d feel coming home to like ten of Tyler’s friends in his living room. Not that Tyler will be coming home that night—he usually sleeps at the old place after he picks Livvie up. Jordie would rather have him over there and safe than driving around Dallas at 3am.

 **Tyler:**  
_Yeah. Sure_  
 _Want help getting the place ready before I leave?_

 **Jordie:**  
_You don’t have to_

Even though he’s a better cook at Tyler’s side, he thinks he can manage getting the apartment set up and some snacks for them to eat. Hockey players aren’t known to be picky with their food.

 **Tyler:**  
_If yo don’t want me to_

 **Jordie:**  
_I want you to_  
 _Always_  
 _Just don’t want you to feel you have to_

Tyler sends him back a smiley face, and a pizza and hotdog emoji.

“Girlfriend say yes?” Garbutt asks when he gets back to the table.

Jordie flips him off.

=========

The crew who show up for the game are mostly-Canadians. Not that anybody is worried about the Canada/Slovakia match-up, but any excuse for a party.

Demers is the first to get there, bearing a case of beer and a shopping bag of chips. Jordie still misses Brenden, but Demers is a great guy and they click together well on the ice.

“Beer in the fridge, chips on the island, sit wherever,” Jordie tells him. They make small talk, the games that other teams played the night before, rink gossip.

Spezza shows up, Roussel even though he doesn’t have a dog in this fight, Garbutt and Eaves. It’s loud and easy and Jordie _likes_ these guys—he shouldn’t be blaming them that Tyler left an hour earlier with a kiss and a smile, even though he doesn’t have to be at work for another two.

The timer in the kitchen goes off, and Jordie puts on the oven mitts and pulls the buffalo wings out, the spiciness of them making his eyes water. He plates them on a ceramic platter, adds the blue cheese cup and celery sticks Tyler had cut for him.

He’s got another three types of dip ready to serve, and after he gets the wings out, he has a tray of stuffed jalapenos to slide in their place.

He turns around and half the guys are staring at him.

“Uh, what, do I have something on my face?”

“Last time we ate at your place, we thought the entire team was going to die of food poisoning,” Garbutt says.

Jordie flips him off.

“No, I’m just saying. Wow. Who’s been teaching you to cook?”

Jordie feels his face starting to flush, cheeks going warm.

“I can have hobbies,” he informs them. “Assholes don’t get to eat my food, so watch your fucking mouth.”

Spezza and Fiddler exchange a glance.

It devolves from there, in a ‘Roussel sneaking in and taking the entire tray of wings’ kind of way, and not a ‘so exactly who have you been cooking for enough to get good at it’ way, so Jordie is grateful for the chaos.

Juice is going nuts in his kennel, whining and trying to claw through the floor. Eakin trying to pet him through the bars isn’t helping.

“Hold your drinks, here comes Juice,” Jordie announces and lets him free. That should distract them.

Various shouts of warning and outrage fill the room.

It’s good, hanging out with the guys. He’d rather have Tyler here, but nobody else has their wife or girlfriend, so he doesn’t feel entirely guilty about enjoying himself.

Canada wins eight to nothing, and Jordie kicks the guys out early enough that Tyler’s still at work. He texts Tyler that the night had gone well. Jordie works to get the place cleaned up, bagging bottles and paper plates, consolidating the remaining food into smaller containers.

It’s not until he’s putting the dishes into the sink that he sees it—a pyramid of three of Livvies bright plastic cups on the counter.

He stares at it for a while. He doesn’t know who found them in the cabinet, or who of the guys saw once they were on the counter, or what they thought of it. He’s not sure if it’s a warning that he’s being too obvious or a chirp or a reproach for not giving deets.

He takes the cups and puts them back into the cabinet. Whoever saw it, or whatever they think, there’s not much he can do about it now.


	38. Holiday cheer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I'm trying to get the rest of this posted before I leave for vacation on July 6, but having small-child with me 24/7 is eating my life right now. Something had to give and it appears to be the "lining up beta readers and processing feedback" step. If you see something egregious, feel free to point it out. I...really should have planned this out better.

“That’s the last of it,” Jordie whispers, stacking the presents under the tree. It’s more than Santa has ever brought her, but Tyler figures that four is not too early for her to begin to figure it out. He tilts the little black and white hockey skates so the light catches them better.

“A little Christmas cheer?” Tyler offers.

“If it’s another of those peppermint beers, then _no_ ”

Tyler snickers. Covers his mouth so he doesn’t laugh out loud. The face Jordie made at the first sip had been amazing. Tyler goes and fixes them cider instead, warm and full of spices and they take their mugs to the bedroom, sit against the headboard of the bed and watch half an hour of the ‘yule log’ video on YouTube.

It feels so good to lean into Jordie, to feel his fingers carding through Tyler’s hair, slow and steady. He sets his drink aside before he spills it. Leans up and kisses the underside of Jordie’s jaw. Turns a little and takes his lower lip between his teeth, tugs gently.

His fear of starting something he isn’t ready to finish is beginning to fade. Sometimes Jordie might take a time-out and go ‘relieve some pressure’, but he has yet to make Tyler feel like he’s getting impatient or frustrated in anything but a physical sense of the word.

Tyler rolls over so he’s facing Jordie, straddles his thighs. There are two layers of clothes and the quilt that Jordie is lying under between them. Tyler carefully keeps back from grinding their dicks together.

“This okay?” he asks. Settles his hands on Jordie’s shoulders. As careful as Jordie is with him, he wants to be the same.

Jordie is…Jordie is looking up at Tyler with so much trust that it makes his heart pound. He traces the lines of Jordie’s face, from eyebrow to cheek to a jaw you could drive nails with. He thinks back to the first time they met, when he was just Jamie’s brother. Tyler probably wouldn’t have noticed him in a bar. He wouldn’t have been the first guy Tyler would chat up, if Tyler was looking to get paid or laid.

Past-Tyler would have been a fool.

“Yeah, Ty. Whatever you want.”

Tyler wants a kiss, slow and easy, tasting Jordie’s lips. He tries to think of it like a waltz or something, instead of a strip-tease. This is them together, not one person performing for the pleasure of the other. This is—

“Daddy?”

Tyler unseats himself so fast he would fall on the floor if Jordie didn’t grab him as he was going over. Shit, at least they were still dressed.

“Livvie? Baby? Are you okay? What’re you doing up?”

She shakes her head. Tyler goes to her, crouches down so he’s on her level.

“I don’t feel good.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He wraps her in his arms. She feels a little warm.

“I don’t.”

Her middle spasms once and she pukes. On his shoulder. Down his back.

“Oh god.”

“Shit, got it, got it,” Jordie says, and runs into the bathroom. He runs back and throws a towel over Tyler’s shoulder, which isn’t much better, but it’ll give him something to keep the barf off of his face while he takes his shirt off.

“Here, I gotcha, Livvie,” Jordie says, and picks her up from behind from under her armpits and airlifts her to the bathroom. Tyler gets his shirt off with as little disruption of the mess as possible. Rolls it up in the towel.

He can hear Livvie heaving again, and Jordie talking to her low and gentle.

He hurries to grab a new shirt and a washcloth, wiping the moisture that got through his shirt off of his skin.

“I know, I know,” Jordie says over and over, one hand on Livvie’s forehead, the other holding her hair out of her face.

Tyler pulls the shirt on over his head and then gets a cup of water and another towel and steps over to help Jordie.

“I think she’s done for now,” Jordie says.

“Here, baby, swish and spit.” He hands her the cup and she does, whimpering pathetically.

“I’ve got her—go grab new pajamas?”

“Yeah.” Jordie rushes off to her room and back.

He helps hold her while Tyler gets her cleaned up and changed, and then Tyler scoops her up against his chest.

“What now?” Jordie asks, but he’s already getting a wet towel and a dry towel and going to where the splash was more than Tyler’s shirt could contain. Tyler stands and rocks Livvie until she grabs his shirt.

“Stop,” she whines, and he goes still, takes a few careful steps closer to the tile of the bathroom.

Jordie gets the carpet as clean as he can without the steam-vac and looks up at Tyler for direction.

“There’s a magnet on the fridge. Kid’s Kare. Can you call and make sure they’re open?” They have to be, right? All the fuss and new toys and broken schedules of Christmas must mean a lot of accidents.

Jordie hurries out and Tyler follows him, walking slow and smooth. Gathers up his wallet and keys.

“They’re open,” Jordie says, grabbing a clean pair of jeans from the laundry room and pulling them on.

======

The office is quiet when they pull up, the bright children’s murals a sharp contrast to Tyler’s naked worry. Jordie takes his own fear and pushes it down. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Livvie is the only kid in line, but they have to wait for paperwork, Jordie copying off the insurance card and Tyler’s ID onto the right lines of the forms.

The exam room is smaller than their closet, and Jordie leans beside Tyler against the exam table. Livvie is asleep again, drooping in Tyler’s arms, exhausted by the late hour and from crying and puking and having her vitals taken. Poor kid. Jordie brushes a strand of blond hair back.

The doctor comes in, an older woman with a narrow face, sharp cheekbones. She looks like a bird. Not like a vulture or something, a more dignified bird. Maybe a crane. Maybe Jordie isn’t processing his stress as well as he thought.

Tyler goes through the symptoms. Sudden vomiting. Maybe a fever.

“When did this start?” the doctor asks, looking between the two of them.

Tyler hesitates. “She’s been. Not herself for a little while. A couple weeks, at least. She wet the bed, twice, and she’s been potty trained since she turned four.”

Jordie frowns. He didn’t know about the pee, but looking back, yeah, Livvie has been odd. “Crying more. It’s been harder to get her to settle at bedtime.”

The doctor hums and gently wakes Livvie up. She does the usual, looking in eyes and ears, nose and throat. Then she lays Livvie back on the table.

“Livvie, honey, does your belly _hurt_?”

Livvie thinks about it and shakes her head.

“Okay. I’m just going to pat your belly for a minute. See if I can feel something. You tell me if it hurts.”

She starts palpating Livvie’s abdomen. Tyler steps back into Jordie’s space, reaches for Jordie’s hand.

“Does it hurt when you potty?”

Livvie shakes her head.

“Has she been having any problems with that?” the doctor asks. Tyler and Jordie shake their heads.

The doctor lifts one of Livvie’s feet, puts her knee closer to her chest, moves it around a little.

“Does that hurt?”

Another shake.

“Hmm. Okay. Most likely, the vomiting is viral. Give her lots of fluids, lots of rest. I know it’s an exciting week for the little ones, but get her as much sleep as possible.”

The doctor sits back, lets Tyler pick Livvie up. He wraps Livvie back in her blanket and snuggles her against his chest.

“And the other thing? The uh, night time issues?”

Livvie clings to Tyler’s shirt. Jordie steps in at his shoulder and rubs her back.

“I wanna go home,” she says, so soft and sad.

“I know, sweetheart,” Jordie murmurs to her.

“You can follow up with her primary care doctor on that if it doesn’t resolve itself soon. It doesn’t sound serious, but it could be an allergy developing, or a bacterial infection. Has she had any unusual stress lately? Changing schools, a new baby in the house, anything like that can throw a kid this age out of whack.”

Tyler shakes his head. Jordie rubs his back too.

“Thank you,” Jordie tells the doctor. She nods and goes on to the next patient, the door left open behind her.

Jordie gets to the counter first and pays while Tyler rocks Livvie.

Tyler hands Jordie the keys and they team-work getting Livvie into her seat with a minimum of fuss. Tyler goes around to the driver’s side so Jordie takes the passenger.

Tyler starts the engine and gets the heater going, and then he sits for a moment. Jordie offers his hand over the center drink holder, and Tyler takes it.

“Thanks,” Tyler murmurs, taking his hand away for just long enough to put the car into drive.

They’re halfway home when Tyler says “She asleep?”

Jordie looks back. Her eyes are closed and her neck at an angle that would leave him crippled for a week if he slept like that.

“Livvie, look, a llama!” he whispers. Not a twitch. She loves llamas enough that if she was aware at all that would have woken her.

“She’s out cold.”

Tyler nods. Sniffs and takes a breath.

“If it’s not physical. Her being off…”

Jordie sets his jaw against the wave of dread.

“I just. She’s never been like this. Crying and wetting the bed. I’m trying to think what it could be, if it’s not an illness. If I’m doing something wrong. Maybe there’s a new teacher at her school I didn’t know about.”

Jordie closes his eyes. Shit.

“Tyler. You two basically moved in with me about a month ago.”

The time they spend at Jordie’s had been increasing, but they’re there every night that Tyler has Livvie and he’s not working. Sometimes between her school and Mrs. Busari’s house, if Jordie is likely to be there.

“No, she’s. She’s too happy. That can’t be it.”

This doesn’t mean Jordie’s losing them. It doesn’t mean they’ll stop coming over.

“I’m really worried,” Tyler whispers.

Jordie squeezes his hand. “I know.”

“I think. I think I want to look at like some kind of kid-therapy. If it is moving in with you, or the way I bounce her between homes, we can see if she can work through it, or if I need to do something different.”

“Okay,” Jordie says. “It sounds like it can’t hurt, and if something’s wrong, it’s gotta help, right?”

Tyler presses his lips together, but his shoulders look looser.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

 

============

Ms. Pam’s office is bright and cheery. The waiting area has a super-squishy couch and a big chest of toys. Her working area is split in two—half is a cozy living room type setup with big leather chairs and another couch, and a play area, with padded mats on the floor, a doll house, a shelf full of soft dolls in a multitude of skin and hair colors.

Tyler wishes Jordie could be with them, to hold Livvie’s other hand, to sit with Tyler while Pam tries to figure out what has upset his child so much. It can’t be moving in with Jordie—sure, Tyler and Livvie have two different places they sleep in during the course of a week, but both are good home environments. Quiet and calm. Shit, maybe her school…

“Tyler, hi,” Pam says as she gets up from her desk and gestures them in.

Her voice is familiar from the long talk he’d had with her about the issues and concerns, her smile warm and open. She takes his hand, gives it a squeeze.

“And this must be Livvie.” She crouches down. “Hi, how are you feeling today? Would you like to see the play room?”

Livvie looks up at Tyler.

“It’s okay, baby. She has some awesome toys. You wanna see?”

Livvie hesitates and then transfers from Tyler’s hand to Pam’s. He’d been instructed over the phone to hang around a few minutes while Livvie got settled and then step out into the waiting area, so he leaves her checking out the shelf of dolls, Pam sitting on the floor next to her.

The couch is over-soft, that kind of enveloping fluffiness that will make it hard to get up again if he sinks all the way to the back, so he perches on the front edge.

He can hear the rise and fall of Pam’s voice over the white-noise machine in the waiting area, but not the words.

Fuck fuck fuck. He’s too scared to even pull out his phone. What if something’s wrong? What if he missed something bad happening to his kid. He sits there, mired in guilt, for nearly half an hour.

“You can stay there and play,” he hears Pam say, and then she’s opening the door.

Tyler looks up at her like a prisoner who doesn’t know if the next person he sees will be bringing the ax or a pardon.

“Who’s Alyssa?” Pam asks, and Tyler’s overwhelming worry is matched by a surge of anger.

Well, shit.


	39. When it rains

Tyler rarely calls Jordie while he’s traveling, and never without texting first to make sure it’s okay. When Jordie’s phone rings as the team is getting on the bus to the hotel, Tyler’s name on the caller ID, a chill runs through him and he answers it.

“Tyler, hey, what’s going on?”

Fiddler pokes Jordie in the back. “Keep it moving.”

Jordie picks up his feet and moves, walking to the back of the bus and throwing his stuff in the seat beside him.

“Well, it’s not the amount of time we spend at your place that’s stressing her out.”

That’s a fucking relief, but also scary as hell, because if it isn’t that, what is it?

“So what is it? You know?”

“Alyssa.” Tyler says the name like it makes his tongue dirty. “The Hudsons have been fucking letting fucking Alyssa around my kid. The have been leaning on her to not tell me Alyssa had been there. Livvie was all twisted up, trying not to spill the ‘special secret.’”

Shit.

“That’s like. Wow, shit. That is not cool at all. Can they do that?”

“No, no they fucking. The restraining order expired, but it was a condition of their visitation. This isn’t supposed to happen.”

“What are you gonna do? What _can_ you do?”

“I need to call the lawyer. Just wanted to tell you first. I need a temporary legal pass-thing on the order for their weekends with her. Shit. I can’t take her there tomorrow. I can’t. ”

Jordie can almost hear the sound of Tyler tearing out his metaphorical hair.

“You’re okay. Take a breath. Call the lawyer. Get this rolling right away. If you need anything, you tell me.”

He listens to Tyler breathing.

“I mean it,” Jordie says, soft and low. “Whatever you need. If I got it, it’s yours.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m okay. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Jordie aches to tell Tyler he is loved, but this is not the time he wants to come out to his team.

“Thanks,” Tyler says, and the call ends.

“Well that looked intense,” Fidds says from the other side of the aisle.

Jordie rubs his hand over his face.

“Friend of mine having custody issues.”

Fiddler nods sagely. “That’s always rough. She okay?”

“Him. My friend Tyler.” It should feel like a lie, but it doesn’t—first and foremost, Tyler is his friend. Everything else is extra.

“Ah. The ex not letting him see the kids or something?”

“She’s bad news. Didn’t want Livvie in the first place, and she’s not supposed to be around her. Her parents have been letting her break the rule though. Just about giving Livvie an ulcer, trying to keep the secret.”

“Yowch. Sucks.”

Jordie nods. Understatement of the fucking year.

=========

 **Jamie:**  
_I don’t know what I’m doing_  
 _I don’t feel good_  
 _I don’t like this._

Jordie stares at the text. He’d thought it would be Tyler, giving him an update. It’s almost six PM Dallas time.

 **Jordie:**  
_I don’t know what you expect me to tell you_  
 _What am I supposed to say to that?_

Shit. The first words with Jamie since the fight and he’s pretty sure those were the wrong ones. He just. Can’t do this right now.

It’s almost half an hour before Jamie texts him back.

 **Jamie:**  
_I don’t want you to hate me_  
 _I don’t want to be like this_

 **Jordie:**  
_Then don’t_

 **Jamie:**  
_How?_

 **Jordie:**  
_I can’t do this for you_  
 _But you don’t have to do it alone_  
 _Get help jamie_  
 _But it cant be me this time_  
 _I don’t hate you_  
 _But it cant be me._

 **Tyler:**  
_Okay_  
 _Got an emergency meeting with the lawyer_  
 _I’m okay_

 **Jordie:**  
_That’s good_  
 _That’s really good_

 **Tyler:**  
_Paperwork in process_  
 _Livvie doesn’t have to go to them tomorrow_  
 _Therapis t will record her testimony_  
 _Were calling for a meeting with hudsons_

 **Jordie:**  
_Thats a relief_  
 _How’s she taking it?_

He and Tyler text back and forth for a while. Tyler is at work, but he’d asked someone to come in to cover for him, and he’s sitting in the back, giving the other guy time to get enough tips to make showing up worth his while.

It’s an hour before Jordie realizes that Jamie never replied. Shit. As mad as he is at Jamie right now, he loves his brother. He’s not gonna let Jamie guilt-trip him into forgiving him before he’s ready, but he’s not able to leave Jamie to self-destruct either.

Time to call in the big guns. He dials their sister’s number.

“Hey Jenny, I need you to call Chubbs…”

=================

“Reservations are at seven,” Jordie reminds the team as they’re heading towards the shower. “Dress fucking nice, order lots of drinks, tip like your mom was watching. And try to act civilized, you bunch of assholes.”

“This is good, what you’re doing for your friend,” Roussel says as he passes Jordie, claps him on the shoulder.

Jordie takes a breath. He wishes he could do more. Wishes Tyler would let him do more. _“I’ve got the money for the lawyer, and I’ve got your support. I don’t know what else you could do,”_ he’d said when Jordie had offered for the third time.

Being there for Tyler as much as work will let him and making sure the tip jar gets stuffed full so that the lawyer doesn’t take a chunk out of Tyler’s savings are the only ways to help that Jordie can think of.

==========

The bar at Abrea opens at five, but it’s usually pretty quiet until at least six. The first pair of big men in nice suits gets Tyler’s attention as they step in the door, chat with the hostess and then head straight for the bar.

It takes a second for recognition to hit. Last time he saw them they were hot and sweaty and on the practice ice up in Frisco. Chaisson and Cole.

“Hi,” Tyler smiles his customer-service smile. “Can I get you anything?”

He’s just finishing mixing their drinks when he sees some more—Goligoski, Horcoff, Garbutt. There’s a lull after that trio has been served and Tyler takes the second to grab the phone under the counter and ring the office.

“Hi Walter, it’s Tyler. Hey, I thought you might want to know the Dallas Stars are here.”

Another group comes in the door.

“Really? How many?” Walter sounds like it’s good news. It might be. Probably is.

“I think it’s all of them,” Tyler says as another cluster comes in the front door, Jordie in the middle of them. “Gotta go.”

“Hi, what can I get you?” Tyler is smiling almost too wide to get the words out.

Jordie rests his elbow on the bar. “Whatcha got on tap?”

“Nothing could be finer than an ice cold Shiner.”

Jordie pretends to consider his choices. “Yeah, Shiner sounds good.”

The guys fill his barstools, and keep him busy while they wait for their table. Walter comes out and personally welcomes them, clapping shoulders and getting selfies.

It isn’t until they’re gone and Tyler’s back down to his usual weekday level of business that he notices the tip jar. It’s stuffed, bills spilling over the lip of the oversize brandy glass.

Tyler pulls it down to the work-surface behind the bar and dumps it over, straightening out the money.

There’s nothing smaller than a twenty, mostly fifties or hundreds, some of them stacked and folded like they were put in together. He doesn’t have time to count, but there’s a couple thousand, easily.

Tyler’s not sure what he _should_ feel, but what he does feel is loved. Cared for.

Even hockey players can’t make dinner take five hours, but Jordie stops by on the way to the door, waving the others on without him.

“Was this okay?” Jordie asks as he fidgets with a coaster.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was really sweet. Thank you.”

Jordie nods. Looks like he’d been worried but now he’s not.

“You still gonna be up at one?” Tyler asks.

“Not likely, but I’ll go to bed early enough that I can wake up and hang out for a while if you want to.”

“I’ll come by,” Tyler says. “I might just crash there for a bit before I go pick Livvie up.”

Their schedules are a convoluted mess.

“See you then,” Jordie says.

He’s acting like a teenager playing the ‘no, you hang up first’ game.

“’Night,” he says, and waves Jordie out of there. “I do have work, you know.”

Fiddler is standing behind Jordie.

“We’re getting a cab—you want to share it?”

Jordie glances back at Tyler and then back to Fiddler.

He doesn’t seem worried. It wasn’t like they were making out. They were talking low enough that Fiddler _probably_ couldn’t hear the conversation.

“See ya,” Jordie says to Tyler, and leaves with his team.

Later, when the restaurant is closing for the night, Tyler counts out the tip money. With the rest of his night, there’s over six thousand dollars.

 

==========

The sound of a key in the lock draws Jordie up from the depths of sleep and into the shallows. He’s vertical, must have fallen asleep in front of the TV. Good thing Tyler came or he’d screw his neck up sleeping like that. He hears the keys settle on the table by the door, hears the thumps of Tyler’s shoes coming off. He can’t hear his sock-footed steps, but the couch dips and Tyler’s warmth settles against him.

Jordie hums in welcome, half-asleep still.

“Ready for bed?” Tyler asks. If Tyler is here, then it’s fucking late.

“Yeah,” Jordie says, and they push and pull each other to their feet. Their nighttime routine is easy, practiced, and they move around each other and get into bed.

Tyler lays on his back and Jordie stretches against him on his side, one arm across Tyler’s midsection, his thumb brushing back and forth on Tyler’s ribs. He waits, there in the dark, for Tyler to settle, to drift off, but he doesn’t, shifting minutely every few minutes.

“You okay?” Jordie asks.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Jordie thinks about it, testing his feelings like he’d check for blood if he got hit. He’s okay, just concerned. “I was just a little worried it looked like I was throwing favors or money at you.”

“Well yeah, but. It wasn’t your money, most of it, and your part of the favor wasn’t much.”

He hadn’t thought Tyler would think that, but there was a slight chance. “Nah. Just made the reservations and let the guys know my friend was having custody troubles. They did the rest. They had a good time. The food there is really good. It’s a little stuffy for hockey players, but we clean up nice when we need to.” And he’d threatened that whoever fucked it up would be the focus of the pranks for the entirety of the next road trip.

“Hey. Fiddler coming in as you were leaving. Did he say anything to you?”

“No, but he didn’t chirp me either, so he thinks he knows _something._ ” How much he thinks he knows and what he wants Jordie to think may be two different things.

Tyler is quiet for a moment. “You uh, how do you feel about that?”

“You mean the chance that I’ll be outted?”

“Yeah. It’s. With this custody mess, it could get ugly. I wouldn’t put it past them to hire a PI. They could use outting you as leverage. I’m just. I want to be ready. To know how you feel just in case it comes up.”

Jordie takes the time to put his thoughts in order. Tyler doesn’t rush him.

“I love you,” he says at last. “I love Livvie. If that’s what it’s gotta be to keep her safe, then it is what it is and I’ll find a way to make it work. I’d rather not voluntarily go public with this while I’m still playing, though. Or at least not until some other guy goes first and we see how it works out for him. That’s. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tyler murmurs. “I don’t expect that of you. I don’t even know if I _want_ us to be out. It’s just.”

“A lot,” Jordie finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t _want_ to be outted,” Jordie says, calm and strong and sure. “But I don’t want to be so scared that we don’t live our lives in the meantime. I don’t want to act like you’re nothing to me. I don’t want to hesitate to give Livvie a hug in public or worry about standing too close to you.”

He can feel Tyler’s ribs jump as he breathes out. “You sap.”

Jordie shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

===========

Jordie drives him to the law offices, Tyler fidgeting in his suit and tie. Another fucking mediation with the Hudsons, another round of veiled threats and open derision. He takes a breath as the truck pulls up to the curb. He can do this. For Livvie, he can do this.

“You can do this,” Jordie says, squeezes his hand and leans in and presses a quick kiss to Tyler’s cheek.

“I can do this,” Tyler echoes and opens the door.

The hallway is impossibly long, the carpeting devouring all sound, his own heartbeat heavy in his ears.

He walks and walks. The knob of the conference room’s door is cold under his fingers. He opens the door, and they’re there. Mr. And Mrs. Hudson. Alyssa.

Their lawyer stands to greet him. His fly is down, his dick hanging out. Mr. Carson.

“Get your pants off and get over here,” he says, nodding at the conference table.

Tyler doesn’t want to. He doesn’t, but his feet move anyway, his hands reaching for his zipper.

Tyler wakes with a gasp, waves of horror rolling through his body. Fuck. Fuck, no. Shit.

“Ty?” Jordie mumbles, lifting his head and struggling to get his eyes open. Jordie has a game tomorrow. He won’t be driving Tyler anywhere. Carson isn’t a lawyer. Alyssa won’t come to something as boring as a mediation.

Tyler pats Jordie’s shoulder. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

Jordie’s head thumps back down to the pillow.

Tyler gets up and goes into the bathroom. His skin feels twitchy, unclean. He closes the door and then turns on the light, blinks against the glare and turns the shower on.

There’s another meeting scheduled for Tyler’s birthday of all days, the Hudsons coming with a new counter-offer. They’re pissed at losing two whole weekends every month for the pittance of two-hour supervised visits. If Tyler is changing the terms of their agreement, then they’re threatening to change theirs too. He can survive the loss of the child support they pay him. He can get her insurance elsewhere if they drop her coverage. He’s already adapted to not having them babysitting her for free, every other weekend.

They’ll be okay. There’s nothing the Hudsons can do to him, no reasonable way they could take Livvie from him.

He strips off his sleep pants and t-shirt and steps into the steaming water.

He knows it’s not realistic to be scared they’ll try to get him declared unfit. He knows there’s nothing he’s doing _now_ that they could find out with a private investigator. No evidence of his previous job unless a former client recognizes him and is willing to go public about it. He hasn’t fucked his way through _that_ much of Dallas’ elite.

The way it’s dragging out, negotiations, mediations, it’s making him sick even though it makes their position in the situation stronger. He’d be so tempted to let it just go to fucking court, except if they go that far he’ll have to demand they not see Livvie at all. He’d be punishing Livvie too, if he did that—she’s old enough to remember them, to miss them, and she’d be disappointed at best, crushed at worst, to have that relationship cut off. Ms. Pam is working to make sure Livvie doesn’t think this is all her fault, but Livvie keeps asking for her grandparents.

He runs his hands over his cheeks, closes his eyes and faces into the stream of water.


	40. Valentines surprise

**Jordie:**  
_Im guessing Saturday is booked?_

 **Tyler:**  
_Yeah. Busiest day of the year._  
 _We’re opening early and closing late_  
 _It’s all hands on deck_

Tyler waits for the reply. Working on Valentines day is not his favorite shift—lots of people are already spending more than they wanted to in romantic gestures and the tips can be inconsistent.

Still, he can’t get out of it short of a trip to the hospital. Valentines falling on a Saturday makes it even worse.

He looks at the message again and realizes he’s holding his phone too tight. He takes a breath and loosens his grip.

 **Jordie:**  
_You wanna leave Livvie here so you don’t have to pick her up after a day that long?_

That would cut his commute in half. Holiday hours means he’d be getting to Mrs. Busari’s about the time she would be waking up, but to have Livvie already settled, to sleep next to Jordie, it has quite a bit of appeal.

 **Tyler:**  
_Yeah._

He wants to add to that. ‘If you’re not busy’ or ‘If you don’t mind.’ But he knows Jordie wouldn’t offer if he had anything that might come up, that he honestly likes having Livvie around. It’s not a favor, it just…is.

 **Tyler:**  
_Thanks_

 **Jordie:**  
_Np_

==========

Valentines is as bad as Tyler predicted. Lines three deep all around the bar, guys (and a few women) trying to get back to their dates as fast as possible. He smiles until his face hurts, walks about ten miles going back and forth down the bar, sliding around Reese who skipped his evening class just for the one night.

Tyler has two different women and an underage twink order Angel Shots at different parts of the night, code for a date they desperately need to get away from. He stops serving to run them back to Walter’s office and then has to brush off their dates when the assholes come looking for them.

The restaurant serves until two and the bar stays open until three.

Walter comes around as they’re closing up, passes Tyler and Reese each a little white envelope. “To make up for the cheapskates,” he says. There’s another couple hundred inside.

Reese and Tyler split the tips, and it was a good night. A hell of a good night, even though it was long and his feet ache and his shoulders are sore from doing flashy spins and flourishes with the pours.

He doesn’t really remember the drive to Jordie’s apartment, making the turns and merges on autopilot.

The lights are on inside when he goes in and he wants to groan. Because Jordie is sweet and Jordie couldn’t do nothing at all for a special day. Tyler doesn’t want to disappoint him and not appreciate whatever it is Jordie has put together, but he doesn’t have the physical or emotional energy left to...

And then he smells…

“Pizza?” Tyler calls. Oh god, let there be pizza here.

Jordie gets up from the couch and comes over, gives Tyler a long tight hug that feels amazing on his back. He lets himself lean, lets Jordie take at least half his weight.

“You look beat,” Jordie says.

Tyler groans. “Please, please tell me there’s pizza.”

“There’s pizza. It just got here like half an hour ago so it should still be warm.”

“You are the best. Have I told you you’re the best?”

Jordie hug-walks him to the kitchen island, gets him sitting on one of the stools.

“How was Livvie?” Tyler asks. He’ll go check on her, he just doesn’t have the willpower to do it before he eats.

“Good. A little confused at me putting her to bed without you here, but Moose told her a story and she went to sleep happy.”

The pizza was kept warm in the oven. It is gooey and meaty. Tyler had a few bites to eat while he was at work, appetizers that the kitchen whipped out for the staff, but he’s well and truly starving at this point.

Tyler moans into the bite of pizza. It is the most perfect thing he has ever had in his mouth. His eyelids flutter and his eyes roll up.

Jordie chuckles, leaning against the island so close that Tyler’s elbow could bump him.

Tyler bumps him with his elbow.

“What?” Tyler asks with his mouth full.

“You. That’s. The most enthusiastic expression of pleasure I’ve ever heard you make.”

Tyler freezes. He’s not sure what Jordie is saying.

“Do you trust me?” Jordie asks.

The answer to that is always “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Can I try to get that sound out of you again?”

Tyler is way too tired for this, but the tone of Jordie’s voice zings from his ears straight to his groin. And maybe. Maybe with his inhibitions lowered a little from exhaustion, it would be easier. Maybe he could just—let it happen and enjoy the ride without thinking about it all too much. He might be a shitty lay, but Jordie loves him too much for that to be a deal-breaker.

He gulps down the rest of his pizza and the Gatorade Jordie brings him. “Where we doing this?” he asks. Not that they have a lot of choices—only so many rooms have a lock, and Livvie is in the house.

“Bedroom,” Jordie says. Tyler reaches for his hand and leads the way. They cross the threshold and Jordie closes the door behind them. He doesn’t lock it and yeah, okay, Tyler is okay with fucking under the sheets rather than have Livvie panic if she gets up and can’t get to them.

Jordie comes up behind him, rests his hands on Tyler’s waist. Just exists there in Tyler’s space, his chest warm against Tyler’s back. Tyler tips his head back on Jordie’s shoulder.

Jordie’s hands start moving, untucking Tyler’s shirt.

“Yeah?” Jordie asks, and Tyler echoes him, not a question.

Jordie unbuttons Tyler’s shirt like it was his own, arms around Tyler’s body, fingers fumbling a little as he works blind. It’s sweet and silly and really sexy.

The belt follows, Jordie unbuckling it and then unfastening Tyler’s pants. Jordie’s fingers brush his dick as they pass by, but not a tease. Jordie probably doesn’t even know he did that. It so easy to let Jordie do it all, to lean passive against him, not because Jordie wants it that way, but because it’s easier to _feel_ if he’s not moving his body too, if Jordie can’t see his face.

The dress slacks slide down Tyler’s legs and Jordie peels the shirt gently from his shoulders. Tyler steps out of his pants and is left in black socks and blue underwear and he feels giddy with it, the imperfections. That it’s okay. He’s not on display, doesn’t have to make sure every detail is right.

Jordie steps away and turns down the top layers on the bed, then comes back to Tyler.

“Here. Lay down.”

Jordie uses his hands on Tyler’s hips to guide him to the bed, to lay down on his stomach on the cool sheets. It feels good. So good to just let Jordie do it all. He trusts Jordie. To not hurt him, to not get angry if Tyler isn’t worth what he paid, to not slip him anything, or stealth off the condom. He doesn’t need to squirm or moan. Doesn’t have to make it a show.

He can hear the rustle of fabric as Jordie leaves his jeans on the floor with Tyler’s.

Tyler isn’t sure what the plan is, but he’s good with whatever Jordie wants to give him, so it probably doesn’t matter.

Jordie straddles his thighs, and yeah, okay, Tyler knows where this is going. Waits for Jordie’s hands on his ass or his dick grinding in. Waits _eagerly_.

And…in vain. He can hear Jordie rubbing his hands together, and when the settle at Tyler’s lower back and push in they’re slick and warm and “Oh, fuck,” the words crushed out of him a long moan.

Jordie makes a little laugh behind him. Those broad hands spread out, easing the tension, soothing his aches. “Fuck that’s so good.” He’s not talking to get Jordie hard, he’s talking to let Jordie know how much Tyler loves him, how good this feels, how grateful Tyler is for this.

Jordie’s weight settles a little more firmly on his thighs, and Tyler thinks if he raised his butt just a little he’d feel Jordie hard for him. Every rock of Jordie’s hips grinds Tyler’s dick into the mattress

He moans at the dual sensation, the push and squeeze of Jordie’s hands and the rub of the blankets against his dick.

“Jor,” he gasps. “Jordie. We gotta close the door or put a sheet over us. Livvie could come in.”

Jordie’s hands freeze. “Uh, what?”

Tyler half-turns to see him.

“If we’re…are we doing sex here?” He almost says ‘fucking’ but it sounds too much like penetration, and he is really sure Jordie isn’t aiming for that.

“That…wasn’t the plan.” Jordie sounds uncertain enough that maybe orgasms are still a possibility.

Tyler lays back down on his stomach, raises his ass against Jordie’s groin.

“I’m really in the moment,” he says. He sounds like his yoga teacher. “Or. I was, and I think I could get back to it.”

Jordie goes back to working on his shoulders, but he does shift his body a little more, and yeah, there, Tyler can feel him.

“I kind of worry that you’re so tired you’re impaired?”

“Mm,” Tyler agrees. “Not worse than a little buzz. I’m okay. I’m. I know what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. I want to do it and.”

Jordie works his thumbs in under Tyler’s shoulder-blades.

“And?”

“And I can’t do it wrong. There is no wrong. Right?”

Jordie huffs. “Right.”

“Can we. You think you could get off like this? Rubbing me through our underwear?”

“Let me go lock that door.”

Jordie gets up and Tyler feels chilled. It’s good that he left his socks on.

“Lights?” Jordie asks, and it would be easier to not do work-things with his face if Jordie can’t see it.

“Yeah.”

Jordie flips the switch. There’s still a nightlight, so nobody kills themselves if Livvie needs something in the night. It’s not _dark_ but it’s not light either.

He can see Jordie’s shape coming back to bed.

“Back where I was?” Jordie asks.

“Yeah. Just. Help me get back there. To where we were.”

Jordie slicks up his hands again and starts over. Tyler lets himself sink, to let go of all his little worries, all his self consciousness. Jordie works from waist to shoulders and then back down, further down, working Tyler’s glutes with the same care he used on the rest of his body.

“Tell me how to do it,” Jordie whispers. “Tell me what you want.”

That’s a heady offer, and it takes Tyler a second to pour through all of his options, sorting them from least to most likely to fuck him up on the ‘being present’ front.

“Can you. Can I roll on my side with you behind me?”

Jordie shifts off of him, takes the position Tyler asked for.

Tyler turns and presses his ass back into Jordie’s dick, hears him grunt behind him. It’s good to know Jordie wants him. To feel the proof that Jordie loves him with his heart and his hard-on.

“Gimme your hand,” Tyler whispers, and Jordie does. It’s tacky with massage stuff, and Tyler guides it to rest over his dick. Holds it there and rolls his hips into Jordie’s touch. Good, that’s good but not enough. He presses Jordie’s hand harder, guiding it, showing him how much pressure to use. Jordie’s palm slides over the cotton of Tyler’s briefs, the briefs themselves staying pretty much where they started.

He finds a rhythm, thrusting and pumping. Fuck, he never thought he’d go so long untouched that just this is getting him there.

Then Jordie stops moving and Tyler wants to cry, fuck, he needs to come, he needs, needs…Jordie’s fingers pluck at the waistband of Tyler’s underwear and oh, he should have trusted, because Jordie is a fucking genius. Together, they get Tyler’s underwear down low enough that Jordie can touch him, can spit in his hand and wrap it around Tyler’s dick and start to really stroke it.

Jordie’s lips press against the back of his shoulder, his short beard prickly-soft. Tyler can hear himself making noises but he doesn’t try to control them. Jordie’s hand picks up speed and the pressure builds and builds and then Tyler is coming, oh fuck, he’s coming and it’s perfect, just perfect.

He collapses into the bed, his entire body lax and worn out. Fuck, that should _not_ have been amazing as it was. Maybe it was because he’d been so long with only his own hand, or maybe it was that it was Jordie.

Jordie holds him for a while and kisses his shoulder. After Tyler’s heart-rate slows down again, Jordie gets up and goes to the bathroom. Tyler can hear the sink, long enough for the water to heat up. Jordie comes back with a damp cloth, sits on the bed and wipes Tyler clean.

“That’s ah, quite an impressive tent you’ve got there in your shorts,” Tyler says. With the bathroom light on it’s easy to see. Jordie glances away, but he’s smiling.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna…” he points over his shoulder towards the bathroom.

Tyler scoots over to make room on the bed. “You could take care of that here, if you wanted.”

Jordie looks at him for a second and then strips off his t-shirt and wiggles out of his shorts, joining Tyler on the bed.

The bottle of massage oil hasn’t gone far, and Tyler pops the cap and waits for Jordie to hold his hand out.

He pours Jordie a good splash and then caps the bottle and tosses it towards the foot of the bed. He settles in close, head on Jordie’s left shoulder, fingertips resting at Jordie’s waist. It’s intimate. Maybe more so because they’re taking turns and Jordie concentrated on Tyler’s pleasure, and now Tyler can focus on Jordie’s.

Even if Jordie isn’t making a show of it, he’s beautiful to watch, the way his body arches as he strokes himself, the soft sounds he makes. His eyes are closed and Tyler wants to kiss his eyelids, wants to climb on top of him and sink down onto his dick.

“Wow,” Tyler breathes, and Jordie makes a strained kind of laugh.

“I could ride you right now,” Tyler murmurs. “I could just. Just be with you.”

That appears to hit Jordie where it counts, and he groans, hand working faster around himself. Tyler kisses his shoulder when he comes, scrapes his teeth lightly across the skin. Jordie gasps and falls slack, breathing hard.

They’re both smiling when it’s over. Tyler feels like his chest is just full to the top with love. So much he has to say it. “I love you,” he whispers. Clears his throat and says it louder, more serious. “I really fucking love you.”

Jordie reaches up with his clean hand and hooks behind Tyler’s head, draws him down for a tender kiss.

“I’ll go get you a wash cloth,” Tyler murmurs when it’s over. He just needs a second. It’s just all so much. Good-much, but still.

“I got it.” Jordie crawls over him and goes to the bathroom before Tyler can get his wits together.

They clean up and put on some clothes and unlock the door. Jordie curls up behind him in the bed, his strong arm over Tyler’s waist. The exhaustion that he’d put aside in favor of having an orgasm with Jordie is coming back with a vengeance, but he holds it back for just another few seconds.

“This was good,” Tyler says. There’s more he needs to articulate, but wow, words are hard. “This was. I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

Jordie kisses the back of his head and Tyler lets his eyes close.


	41. Come together

“I’ll be here,” Jordie says, reaching over the truck’s center console to find Tyler’s hand and give it a quick squeeze. “Come get me or give me a call if you want me to come in.”

Tyler takes a breath and pushes down the feeling of deja vu.

“Love you,” Jordie says, and Tyler nods, his stomach squirming with nerves.

Mrs. Varma is waiting on the sidewalk. She’s small, a foot shorter than Tyler and delicately built. She stands there waiting, case-file in hand, like she’s ready to take on the world for Tyler and Livvie. She’s not the lawyer Tyler paid the first time around. Tyler’s not sure if he had been incompetent or just lazy, but he’d barely even met Tyler’s eyes at any point, much less looked ready for a fight.

Mrs. Varma projects an air of confidence. She makes Tyler feel like she believes in Tyler, and that makes a world of difference.

======

In the end, Tyler yields a little and the Hudsons compromise a lot more.

They keep paying for her insurance and half of the support they used to give him, the other half going into her college fund. He lets them have a minimum of two eight-hour days a month, 8am to 4pm, on his choice of weekend days. Tyler’s allowed to take her wherever he wants as long as she’s back for their days. If Tyler gives up residency in Texas and moves out of state, then both the financial and visitation ends of the deal are void. If Livvie stops wanting to see the Hudsons, she has that option. If Livvie’s therapist says it’s more stress than benefit, they can have another round of debate.

The agreement outlines consequences if Alyssa sees her again—a termination of the visits but not the financial end of the bargain. Tyler thinks the Hudsons are too determined to get a good return on their investment to fuck up again.

Mrs. Varma likes it, and Jordie does too, when Tyler tells him the details over ice cream.

Tyler signs the paperwork in the morning.

=============

“You worried about playing your brother again?” Fiddler asks Jordie, leaning over the airplane’s aisle to say it soft.

There’s a change in the cabin though, other guys going quieter, waiting for the answer, to hear if it’s gonna be a problem they need to watch out for.

Jordie shrugs and clicks ‘hatch’ on a dragon egg on his tablet. Great. Another flaming rock dragon.

“Haven’t talked to him, but I don’t expect him to be a dick, and I’m not going after him.”

Not unless Jamie drives him to it, and he doesn’t think Jamie will.

“So uh, should we maybe not invite him out for drinks after?”

Jordie’s fingers hesitate over the screen. Is he ready to see Jamie without losing his shit? He’s not sure he can be not-pissed at Jamie, but he’s confident he can walk off before he does something dumb like start a bar fight.

He shrugs.

“No, that’s fine, whatever.”

===============

Jamie isn’t the one that dodged Jordie’s check and left him slamming himself into the glass and looking like an idiot, but it still doesn’t help Jordie’s mood when he leaves the dressing room and Jamie is standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s looking better, Jordie has to admit. Less pale, less tight-strung. He greets Fiddler and says hi to some of the other guys. He’s lost some of the social confidence he had in those few months he captained the team, head-ducking and bashful.

The look he sends Jordie isn’t one that Jordie knows how to translate—he’s pretty sure he has never seen that on Jamie’s face, somewhere between contrite and pleading, like he’s begging Jordie not to fuck up this evening for him.

Jordie has no plans to go out of his way to shit on his teammates’ chance to hang out with their former captain. He shrugs, gentles the aggravation on his face. Looks away again. It’s a new kind of hurt to see Jamie like this, to remember the layers of pain from their last meeting.

He loves his brother and this silence between them is a long lingering ache. He’s missed him so deeply and he doesn’t know what he’d have done if he didn’t have Tyler’s interests to keep in mind as well as his own. He’d have probably accepted the first apology Jamie made. Let him in that night after the fight when Jamie showed up at their place.

Without Tyler, there wouldn’t have been anything Jamie could say that would make Jordie resort to violence though, so it’s all a moot point.

Jamie suggests a place and the guys agree and Jordie has no reason to object. It’s a pizza/sports bar kind of place, big loud televisions everywhere, super-deep deep-dish pizza coming hot from the oven as soon as they arrive, like the Stars were expected. He gets a slice and stays on the fringes of the group, far from where Jamie is the center. Pitchers of beer come to the table, but Jordie only has the one mug.

It’s probably for the best. The guys get loose and loud and Jordie goes to the bar for another round.

“Hey.”

Jamie’s voice has always been small and soft, and now it’s barely audible over the music and the cheers and groans of the sports fans.

Jamie tips his head towards the door, a silent entreaty. Jordie hesitates. Brawling with his brother in a bar’s parking lot is the last thing he wants. Without a chaperon it’s more likely to escalate, Jamie’s temper and Jordie’s protectiveness of Tyler stoking that fire higher and higher.

He must hesitate too long, because Jamie’s head drops.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He turns to go, not back to the table but towards the door.

And fuck it. The guys can get their own drinks, if anybody is even sober enough to remember they sent Jordie for them.

“Wait up,” he calls, and Jamie slows down.

They weave through the crowd into the chill air. Jordie travels enough that he hasn’t gotten soft, living in the south. It’s a little colder than freezing, and he pulls his toque out of his pocket and pulls it on. Would have brought gloves if he knew he’d be standing out in the cold.

Jamie leads him down the sidewalk—away from the crowds but not around the corner.

“I fucked up,” are the first words Jamie says, coming out in a rush. “I fucked up and I hurt you, and I probably. No. I know I scared Tyler and I am so, so sorry.”

Jordie waits.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Jamie continues, filling the silence. “I should have taken the punch. I deserved it. I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I hit you like that. It was like I didn’t even know myself.”

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Jordie mumbles back. “No matter what you said, it was just words.”

They stand there silent for long moments.

“I’m trying to be better,” Jamie says, so quiet Jordie can barely hear him.

“I’m seeing somebody. I mean like a therapist, not a date. I’m not. Not dating right now. I can’t handle it.”

Jordie winces.

“You know Tyler and I weren’t—it wasn’t anything more than friendship when you were with him. You know that, right?”

Jamie nods, chews on his lower lip. Maybe he knew it but it was a relief to hear it anyway.

“When?” Jamie asks, his voice hoarse over the word.

“After the fight. I wasn’t even planning on telling him I liked him before that. I didn’t have the balls to risk what I had for something more. After that game, after you showed up and left again. He kept asking what it was all about. Why I’d fight you.” He huffs out a sigh. “I told him, and we just. It took a lot of talking, but we decided to try.”

Jamie blinks at him. “Whuh?”

“We weren’t even together when you and I fought. You just. What the fuck, Jamie? If you loved him so much, why were you such an ass when you were with him?”

Jamie winces and Jordie stares out into traffic for a minute so he can get his temper back under control.

“I just wanted to be happy,” Jamie sighs. “I don’t know how. It always came so easy for you. Women, relationships. Men, apparently.” Bitterness creeps into his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jamie cuts in before Jordie can gather his anger again.

“It wasn’t you having Tyler I was jealous of. It was how easy it was for you. He just. I’ve never in my life had anybody look at me the way he was looking at you.”

He puts a hand over his face, pinches at the corners of his eyes.

If Jordie thought a hug would make it better, would help in the long run, he’d break this up now, pull Jamie in and mess up his hair and they could fake-laugh until it was real.

“He’s a real person. Tyler. He’s not some box-top I collected on my way to being content. He’s. We work on it. Every day we’re together, we work on keeping our relationship strong. I love him, Jamie. And this shit is something you’re gonna have to get past if you and I are gonna be anything like we were.”

Jamie starts nodding halfway through Jordie’s words.

“I know. I know, and I’m working on it. I swear. It’s shitty and it hurts and I don’t like what we dig up sometimes in therapy, but I’m trying. I don’t want to be like this. Not-talking to you and feeling like shit every time I call mom or talk to Jenny. I’ll do whatever I have to do to put my family back together.”

Jordie sighs, steps over and puts his back to the same wall Jamie is leaning against, lets their shoulders press in together. Fuck, he missed this. They’d always been so close, more like twins than brothers. Even with Tyler’s hugs and Livvie using him like a jungle gym, it’s like his skin hasn’t fit right without bumping into Jamie’s on a regular basis.

He licks his lips. Considers what he wants to say.

“I’m gonna ask him to come home with me this summer. I want him to meet Mom and Dad and Jenny. See the places I grew up.”

Jamie is quiet. “You want me out of the way for that?”

“I was thinking there should be time for you and me in there somewhere. He’s got…custody stuff he has to come back for at least a couple times over the summer. You and I could go out to the lake while we used to.”

“Just tell me when you want me out of town,” Jamie says. Maybe he’s getting better at listening after all of this pain.

===============

Jordie checks his phone in the elevator, on his way up to his room.

 **Tyler:**  
_I’ll be off when you get to the hotel_  
 _Give me a call before bed?_

The messages came in a few hours ago, around the time the game ended. As Jordie reads them, another comes in:

 **Tyler:**  
_Just got off work_

Tyler hadn’t said anything before Jordie went to Detroit. Didn’t seem to notice or care what city was on the calendar, but the sets of texts seems to say something different.

Jordie calls.

“Hey.” Tyler picks up on the first ring. The background sound of engine and road noise marks him on the way home from work.

“Hey yourself,” Jordie says, nods to Eakin and gets off at his floor.

“I uh, just wanted to check on you. Rough game.”

The loss, Jordie’s two turn-overs, it all seems a long time ago, the talk with Jamie so much sharper than what came before it. If that’s even what Tyler is actually worried about.

“I’m okay,” Jordie says. “Went out with the team after. Jamie came with us.”

Tyler is quiet for a moment. Jordie isn’t sure if it’s because he’s driving or shaping his reaction.

“You okay?”

Jordie takes a breath. Talking to Tyler about this is heavy with risk, the ties between the three of them a tangle.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. He’s. Working on himself. It doesn’t make what happened before go away, but I’m glad. I still love him. He’s still my brother.”

He holds his breath, waiting to hear Tyler’s reply. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’ll do if Tyler is pissed, if Tyler feels betrayed that Jordie is even talking to Jamie.

Tyler is quiet for longer this time. Jordie closes his eyes and breathes.

“He sorry for hitting you?” Tyler asks at last.

“Yeah,” Jordie sighs. “Yeah. He said it. I think he meant it. He’s trying. He said he was sorry for scaring you, too. That night.”

“Okay.”

The background noise goes quiet, and Jordie can imagine Tyler sitting in his car, probably outside Tyler’s place.

Jordie probably shouldn’t push, but he needs to hear it’s really okay, that he doesn’t have to choose between Tyler and Jamie.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I hear you. Or, well, I hear him through you.”

Neither of them talks for a long time.

“You love him,” Tyler says, soft. “He’s your family.”

“Yeah,” Jordie breathes. He feels weak, fragile. “Is that. Are you okay with that?”

“I think so,” Tyler says like it’s not a certainty. “And if I figure out I’m not, I’ll let you know.” His voice goes softer. “We’ll work it out. We’ll be okay.”

Jordie sighs and feels his body relaxing back into the hotel bedspread. “That’s all I ask for.”


	42. Family Skate

“Hey, Fidds,” Jordie says as they’re on the way out of the locker room after morning skate. They’re still running with extra A’s and no Cap. Management brought in Spezza, but didn’t give him the C. Not yet at least, and it feels like they’re waiting for something, somebody. 

“Yeah?” Fiddler slows down and turns Jordie’s way.

Jordie feels like he should be nervous, should feel some fear of exposure, but he can’t find that emotion. It’s not so much trust in his team, although there is that too, but after the tense days leading up to the custody mediation, this seems like nothing.

“So, my parents aren’t planning to come down for the family skate next week. It okay if I bring Tyler and his kid instead?”

Fiddler blinks. “Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s fine. Is there uh, anything you want to talk about?”

“Nope. See you tonight.”

===========

“You sure about this?” Tyler asks as he turns the car’s engine off. They sit for a moment in the sudden quiet. 

Livvie’s shoes tap-tap the back of Jordie’s seat as she swings her feet. Jordie thinks Tyler must be worried to second-guess this at such a late stage of the plan, to let Livvie get dressed up and excited and then risk disappointing her if Jordie has a sudden case of nerves.

“I’m sure,” Jordie says, covers Tyler’s hand with his own. He glances around at the parking garage they’re sitting in, but none of the other players are in sight. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Tyler’s temple, for courage. 

“You having second thoughts?” Jordie asks. This is supposed to be fun. If Tyler is too nervous, too worried about what other people are thinking about them, it won’t be. 

Tyler takes a breath. Actually thinks about it again. “No, I’m good.”

The force and tempo of little feet in Jordie’s lumbar both rise. 

“Livvie,” Tyler warns, and her feet stop.

“I wanna go skate,” she reminds them.

Jordie smiles. 

“So let’s go skate.”

=========

Tyler carries the skate bags with his and Livvie’s gear. She’d outgrown the last pair of skates, the ones that Tyler got her before Jordie was in their lives. Jordie knows he went a little overboard, getting her figure and hockey skates. Never too early to start planning for the 2030 Winter Olympics. Maybe 2026, depending on what sport she wants to play.

Jordie carries Livvie, waving and introducing her as they run into the guys in the locker room. “I know that,” she says after most of the names. The girl’s a fan.

There are wives, girlfriends, kids everywhere, and Jordie puts her down so she can run find some friends. 

About half of the team had already met Tyler, that time Jordie brought a bunch of them to Tyler’s work or when Jordie met him after practices, and they nod as they go by, stop and say hi. Tyler sits on the bench near Jordie’s stall and slips out of his shoes, fixes his socks and pulls on his skates, lacing them with the speed and casual competence every other hockey player in the room has. 

Jordie really shouldn’t find it as hot as he does. 

Fiddler sits down next to Tyler, asks him about Livvie, about the custody issues. 

“Kindergarten next year?” Fiddler asks. 

Tyler nods. “Yeah. I’m still working it out. The elementary school that’s near my apartment is pretty good, but I’ve got a brunch with a teacher up in Plano to see if it would be worth moving to get her into a better one.”

He glances at Jordie when he says it, and Jordie doesn’t know what the question in Tyler’s eyes is, but the answer will always be yes.

“Good luck with that,” Fiddler says. “See you on the ice.” He claps Tyler on the shoulder as he stands and goes to meet Roussel’s girlfriend. 

Livvie comes over before Jordie can ask what that look was, before he can offer Tyler the use of his address if the school in his area is better than the one near Tyler’s apartment. No matter what, things are going to get more complicated for Tyler when school starts in the fall, although hopefully having Livvie in full-day kinder will let him get more sleep than the half-days Livvie spends at pre-school.

Tyler starts lacing the figure skates onto her feet and Jordie jokes around with Jason. 

Livvie leans in and whispers something to Tyler and Tyler does his best to stifle a grin.

“I don’t know, baby, why don’t you ask him?”

Livvie climbs off of the bench and clomps over to Jordie, reaches up for his hand. Jordie steadies her and she looks up at Jason.

“You can’t be everybody’s daddy,” she informs him, her little face serious.

Jason chokes. Jordie has never seen him blush, and the dark flush on his cheeks will be chirping material for the ages.

“So why do they call you that if you aren’t?”

“Um, it’s, I just boss everybody around like I’m their daddy,” Jason stumbles out. 

The dozen or so players within earshot crack up and Livvie glares around at them. 

“It’s okay,” Jordie reassures her. “It was a good question. You ready to skate?”

Like the flip of a switch she goes from annoyed to excited. “Yes! Daddy, we’re going to skate now,” she says. Pauses and looks up at Jason. 

“Not you; my real daddy,” she kid-whispers at him, and the guys have enough sense to smother their laughter. 

============

Tyler is beautiful on the ice, effortlessly graceful, relaxed and happy. Jordie holds Livvie’s hands and helps her balance while Tyler loops around them, dashing ahead and circling back. 

Jordie feels a pang at the fucking _waste_ of it, but he’s accepted it, that this is as close to NHL ice as Tyler is going to get. He won’t bring it up again, but he still feels a ghostly ache for the loss every time he makes it to one of Tyler’s games or sees him on the ice. 

Spezza’s path comes close enough to Tyler’s that he asks something. Tyler shrugs and does a quick switch from skating forward to backward to forward again. “Yeah, a little bit,” is all Jordie can hear of his answer. 

Roussel appears at Jordie’s side, grinning and waving at Livvie. “Hello, Princess,” he says. She looks up at him, her helmet tipping her head back. Jordie supports her weight when she would have gone down on her butt. 

“Hey, Livvie, this is Antoine,” Jordie says. 

“No, that’s Roussel,” she tells him. 

“Ah, either way is both good.” Roussel offers a hand and she pulls hers out of Jordie’s and takes it. It’s easier, skating with her between them. He glances for Tyler, but Spezza is still skating with him. Their body language looks relaxed. 

Tyler looks back, catches Jordie’s eye, bemused and puzzled, like he has no idea how this happened. 

Jordie shrugs and then turns his attention back to Livvie.

“He’s the one?” Roussel asks, and the smile on Jordie’s face falters. 

“Huh?”

“The one Jamie means. That game where you punch him.”

The next breath burns in Jordie’s chest. He’d thought it was a risk to bring Tyler here, but it really wasn’t—the secret is out. It has _been_ out since before it existed. He tries to remember who was on the ice with him, who else was close enough to hear what Jamie said, but it’s all a blur. 

“He’s good for you,” Roussel says when Jordie doesn’t answer. “Good skater too.”

“You should see his shot,” Jordie says, the urge to brag on Tyler overwhelming any instinct for secrecy. 

“Yeah?” Rouss asks, and it sounds like a challenge, like the start of shenanigans. “What weight stick does he use? Ninety? Eighty-five?” He looks at Tyler like he’s weighing and measuring him with his eyes.

“Nah, not here,” Jordie says, ending that before it starts. 

“Ah well,” Roussel says, but he’s clearly still scheming.

========

They know. Tyler kind of wants to go back in time a few hours and laugh at his younger self and Jordie both, for thinking there was any way Jordie had been subtle enough that none of his team guessed. Fiddler had asked about ‘all your options’ and looked at Jordie while Tyler was talking about kindergarten plans. Spezza had tried to feel Tyler out, ask what his plans for hockey and life were and cautioned that being friends with an NHL player could be rough and offered his wife’s number. 

Fiddler cuts in then and takes Tyler to meet _his_ wife. She’s not a strong skater, and Tyler offers his arm to steady her after introductions are made. They make slow, lazy laps around the rink. 

Tyler’s gaze finds Jordie and Livvie in the crowd, Jordie watching while Livvie is tugged along in a train of larger children. 

Chrissy asks him about his hobbies and what he enjoys doing. He talks rec-league hockey and helping Jordie in the kitchen, bartending and that he’s thinking of taking some classes in the fall. She asks what kind of workouts he’s into, and when he says yoga, they talk about that for another lap of the rink. She teaches, and he tries to not be like the person who asks a doctor to diagnose a rash at a cocktail party, but he’s been having a rough time trying to get his Lord of the Dance pose straightened out. He doesn’t mention it, but he makes a mental note to ask next time, if there is a next time.

She’s doing some cool things with adaptive yoga for people that can’t do the traditional poses and he asks her questions about that instead of having her troubleshoot his moves without actually seeing them.

They make plans for a mimosa brunch before he is swept away again. 

It’s a whirlwind of new faces, mostly wives and girlfriends. Some of the other guys brought non-date plus-one guy-friends with them, but Tyler doesn’t see any of them getting introduced around like he is. 

None of the players make a big deal of it—there’s no weird emphasis on the ‘friend’ part of “Jordie’s friend Tyler,” but he can see that he’s getting treated different. Good-different though, and he starts to relax, lets himself enjoy the day.


	43. Looking forward

**Tyler:**  
_What do you think about childhood development_  
 _Like a degree_

**Jordie:**  
_For you or for me?_

There is a long pause before Tyler replies. Jordie isn’t sure if it’s just because Tyler is probably at McD with the kids or if the question has thrown him.

**Tyler:**  
_For me I guess_  
 _I’m pretty good with Livvie_  
 _And the Busari boys_

Jordie doesn’t want to shoot him down, but it doesn’t seem like something Tyler has his heart set on.

**Jordie:**   
_What would you do with that degree?_   
_What do you want to do with it?_

Tyler sends back the ‘shrug’ emoji.

============

**Tyler:**  
_Physical therapist?_

**Jordie:**  
_???_  
 _You okay?_

**Tyler:**  
_For a career_

Ah. Jordie relaxes back onto the hotel pillows.

**Jordie:**  
_Could come in handy_

Tyler sends back a smilie, and nothing else for a while. Jordie thinks the conversation is over.

**Tyler:**  
_Oh duck that_  
 _Thats like being a doctor_  
 _Like serious doctor_

**Jordie:**  
_Massage therapist instead?_

**Tyler:**  
_I’ll check that out_

He doesn’t mention it again.

==========

**Tyler:**  
_Personal trainer?_  
 _I could do that_  
 _Right?_

**Jordie:**  
_Sure_  
 _Yeah_  
 _I could see that_

**Tyler:**  
_I’d have to tone up again_

Jordie thinks Tyler’s body is beautiful, slimmer than he’d been when he’d first showed up at the Benns’ door looking like some jock bro, but still fit, still strong.

**Tyler:**  
_I’d have to look like they want to look_

**Jordie:**  
_You look good_  
 _I’m sure you could find clients who want that look_

He waits, to see if he’s fucked up. There are a few lines he’s not sure if he should cross, if he’s not sure if he has the right. Talking about Tyler’s body, appreciating Tyler’s body, is one of them.

**Tyler:**  
_Hmmm…_

===========

**Tyler:**  
_Hospitality management_  
 _As degree plan_

**Jordie:**  
_What does that do?_

**Tyler:**   
_Talked to Lydia at work._   
_Even a few classes would help_   
_Let me manage more of the bar_   
_Or move to ass manager of a different bar_   
_Or restaurant_

**Jordie:**   
_I can see that_   
_How’s the course load look?_

**Tyler:**   
_Not terrible_   
_Lots of online_

Jordie leans back in his seat on the bus. He’s got nothing to do on the plane except play the stupid dragons game and read a book. If Tyler can fit college classes into his schedule of work and fatherhood, Jordie can figure a way to get some studying done in the odd patches of down-time that he has.

**Jordie:**   
_Go for it_   
_Anything I can do to help?_

**Tyler:**   
_I think I’m good_   
_Gonna go talk to a counselor next week_   
_Before they get busy with summer registration_

**Jordie:**   
_Proud of you._

It’s another of those moments when he’s not sure where the boundaries are, but Tyler sends back a kiss and a heart and a trophy emoji, so he thinks it’s okay.

===========

Jordie wakes to the sound of Tyler coming in the front door, the rattle of his keys on the table. Juice’s food sounds like little bells, falling into the ceramic of his bowl. Tyler opens the fridge and closes it again.

Jordie stretches under the sheets, feeling the aches and soreness of a game well played the night before.

He could wait here. Tyler would cuddle with him a while, let Jordie sleep a bit more while Tyler watches his show or something.

Practice isn’t until noon though, and Jordie doesn’t want to waste the morning, not when Livvie is at pre-school and Tyler is here and apparently awake.

He pulls himself out of bed and to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and combing his hair back from his face with his fingers. He showered the night before, but he puts on more deodorant and goes in search of Tyler.

Tyler is at the table when Jordie finds him, eating a quick omelet, a cup of coffee in front of him and an empty one sitting next to the coffee maker.

“Hey,” Tyler says, smiling up at Jordie. “I was just grabbing a bite before I came to bed.”

He looks amazing in the light from the wall of windows, glowing and beautiful and Jordie doesn’t know how the fuck he got so lucky.

Tyler keeps looking up, as Jordie comes over, as he leans in and presses their lips together. Tyler tastes like coffee, bitter against Jordie’s mint.

It just blows his mind how easy it is, how right it feels.

Tyler’s smile is soft and open for the first kiss, and then his attention focuses in, his gaze locked on Jordie’s lower lip. He reaches up, catches Jordie behind his neck and kisses him again, kisses him with intent, the scrape of teeth in between gentler touches of lips and tongue.

About the time Jordie’s neck is starting to protest, Tyler lets him go, slides his chair out from the table. He doesn’t get up though, guides Jordie with little tugs of his shirt and wrist towards himself. Pulls Jordie in to straddle his lap.

It’s not a position Jordie ever thought he’d find himself in, sitting on his lover’s lap, legs bracketing his thighs, his dick so close to Tyler’s abs. It’s not as drastic as when Tyler was sitting and Jordie standing, but he’s still ridiculously tall. Tyler is smiling when he looks up at Jordie and that’s worth however dumb he looks.

His thighs tremble from holding his weight off of Tyler, until Tyler reaches behind Jordie’s back side, squeezes the underside of his thighs and pulls him in and down. It’s weird—he feels like he’s crushing Tyler, even though he knows he’s not; Tyler’s strong and the chair is sturdy. He feels rude to be shoving his hard on against Tyler’s stomach, even though Tyler obviously intended it. The position puts Tyler’s eye level around Jordie’s chin, the right height to grab the collar of Jordie’s t-shirt in his teeth and bite, looking up at him like a playful pup.

Then Tyler blinks. He lets go of Jordie’s shirt and his hands relax their grip on Jordie’s hips. A frown forms between Tyler’s eyebrows.

Jordie plays back the last few seconds, looking for the moment he overstepped, the point where Tyler slipped into work-mode. He shifts to stand up and Tyler releases him.

“Hey,” Tyler says. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab Jordie and pull him back tight. It’s an even more-mixed signal than Jordie is used to getting.

“You want me up?” Jordie asks and Tyler shakes his head.

“I really don’t, but. I know—I know you’ve been careful of me,” he says. His face does something complicated. “That doesn’t mean I get to just. Bully you around. If you’re not into it, god, Jordie you can tell me.”

He looks worried enough that Jordie has to stop and question himself. _Is_ he doing something he doesn’t want to? Is he not into this? Is he so eager to get off with Tyler that he’ll take what he’s offered even if he’s not a fan?

Tyler shifts a little under Jordie’s thighs.

“I feel. Really awkward here,” Jordie says at last. “I’m too big. I’ve gotta be crushing you.”

Tyler tips his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I’m tougher than that. I wouldn’t put you here if I didn’t like it.” His hands drift, gentle petting over Jordie’s waist and hips. It could be sexual but it isn’t.

“You’re just… _smaller_ ,” Jordie groans, knowing it’s not the right thing to say, to put Tyler into that box, that role. He rubs a hand over his face to hide for just a second.

“I swear to god my masculinity isn’t this fragile,” Jordie huffs out, surprised and embarrassed at himself. Ugh, what if it is?

Tyler reaches up and takes Jordie’s wrists, holds his hands between their chests. Jordie looks down, unable to let Tyler see him so close, so bare as he questions himself.

“Not every person has to be into every thing,” Tyler says, and he’s so gentle, so careful. His thumbs rub at the palms of Jordie’s hands. “It’s okay for you to not be into everything that I am.”

He releases Jordie’s hands and pats his legs. “Okay, you actually are getting heavy now.”

Jordie grunts and gets up. Goes over to the coffee maker.

He’s not sure if he’s glad Tyler gets up and follows him over.

“There’s, seriously, enough that’ll overlap. Enough stuff we both enjoy. Saying no to sitting on my lap isn’t a deal-breaker.”

Jordie pours his coffee, adds sugar and enough milk that he doesn’t have to wait for it to cool before he can drink it. He knows that the caffeine can’t kick in that fast, but he feels more awake with just the flavor. His brain spins the problem around. He’s not turned off by it, just—

“I know how to be a boyfriend,” he says. Tyler slips up against his back, warm and solid, arms around his waist.

“I just don’t want to come up short when it comes to being the one who _has_ a boyfriend.”

He’s not sure that made sense, and Tyler puts his lips to Jordie’s shoulder. He can feel the warmth of Tyler’s breath.

“Wait,” Tyler says against Jordie’s t-shirt. “Is this an experience thing or a ‘being with a man’ freak-out thing?”

Jordie hangs his head. “Both?”

Tyler’s arms tighten around him but it makes it easier for Jordie to breathe instead of harder. It’s quiet between them for long seconds.

“You know you never have to do anything you don’t want to, right?” Tyler asks from behind him. “Sitting on my lap isn’t starting something you’ll have to finish. I won’t…I’d never ask you to do something you don’t want to.”

Jordie nods, covers Tyler’s hands with his own. “I know I don’t have to,” Jordie says, and if he didn’t know before he said it, hearing the words makes him sure of it.

“I don’t want to fuck it up. I want to want what you’re into.”

Tyler sighs behind him. “You’re what I’m into. If you—if you need to be the ‘man’ of the relationship…”

His words falter, wanting to be able to tell Jordie what he wants to hear but shying away from telling a lie.

“I don’t need that,” Jordie says before it can all go sideways on them. “I just. Be patient with me?”

“Of course,” Tyler says and squeezes Jordie’s ribs again. “I know what I’m looking for now. If. If I miss it and rush you, you tell me though, okay?”

Jordie shifts and Tyler loosens his hold just enough for Jordie to turn, to lean in and nudge their lips together.

They kiss, the earlier spark turned to a warmth that goes bone-deep.

“I just want to be good for you,” Jordie mumbles against Tyler’s mouth.

“Been good so far, hasn’t it?” Tyler leans back so he can see Jordie’s face.

“Yeah, it has. I just. Don’t want to disappoint you if we get to stuff I haven’t done with guys before.”

Tyler shrugs. “I can’t imagine sex with you being so bad I’d be disappointed. I’ll tell you if something isn’t working for me. You call it if something isn’t working for you.” He leans up to steal another quick kiss.

“Sex is easy,” Tyler says. “If you’re worried, maybe I can see when Ian’s free—you could get some tips from him.”

Jordie blinks at the swerve the conversation has taken.

“Uh, like professionally?”

Tyler shrugs. He does not look like he’s making a joke, but not worried either.

“I was thinking he could just uh, talk you through some stuff. Some tricks with technique that make things easier or more fun. He knows what I like, but if you want, he could…”

“No!” Jordie cuts in, a little too sudden, a little too loud. “No, that would be weird. I don’t. Don’t even know if I could talk about this stuff.”

A part of him thinks he should be jealous, someone else knowing what his boyfriend enjoys in bed, knowing in detail. Ian cares for Tyler though, and for all Jordie’s insecurities where his skill is concerned, he’s not worried that Tyler will leave him for a more experienced lover. If Tyler and Ian were gonna be a thing, they would have done it before now. Hell, even Jamie had more experience than Jordie, and that didn’t make it a functional relationship.

“Sorry,” Tyler murmurs.

Jordie kisses his forehead.

“No, it wasn’t a bad idea. I just don’t think I could…”

“Okay,” Tyler says. “We're okay.”


	44. New ground

Jordie gets back from the gym downstairs and Juice meets him at the door.

“Hey boy, hey boy, where’s Tyler?”

Juice woofs and scrambles towards the bedroom, gets further from Jordie than he wants to be and dashes back, turns and heads for Tyler again, tail wagging. Jordie makes a short detour through the kitchen to grab Gatorade and one of Juice’s snacks and then he follows the dog down the hall.

Tyler is coming out of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing sweats when Jordie gets to the bedroom. Judging from the time and the day of the week, he probably just woke up from his nap. Livvie doesn’t have to be picked up at pre-school for another hour and a half.

The sight of him makes Jordie’s heart take a double-beat. He tosses Juice’s treat down the hall and closes the door after him.

“Hey,” Tyler says.

“Can I blow you?” Jordie asks, the words he’s been playing around with in his head bursting from his lips without his control. Shit, he’s probably at his least-sexy right now, sweaty and gross from the gym. “I mean, after I take a shower.”

Tyler’s lips twitch in a smile. “Like I’m gonna say no to that,” he says, but they both know it had been a possibility, that he might have jerked off a minute ago and not be in the mood. They both know he  _could_ have said no if he'd wanted to.

Jordie pulls his shirt off, heading for the bathroom. He pauses long enough to kiss Tyler’s cheek, but he knows he smells so he doesn’t linger long enough for the stink to catch up to him.

“You want company in there?”

Jordie pauses with his shorts around his knees. His mouth goes dry.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He slows his movements. The last fucking thing he wants to happen is for one or both of them slip and fall in the shower.

The tile is still warm and wet under his feet, and Tyler gets naked while Jordie is adjusting the water. It’s sexy in a strange, comfortable way when Tyler’s hand rests on Jordie’s bare hip.

Jordie covers Tyler’s hand with his own, keeps it in place as he steps into the shower enclosure, drawing Tyler along with him.

There’s a moment when Tyler not so much flinches as goes distracted for a visible second.

“I’m not planning on anything that’s wilder than washing my hair,” Jordie says.

Tyler shakes his head, a tiny smile at the corner of his lips.

“It wasn’t that. I trust you to not make me fall. I just. Realized I don’t have a menu anymore.”

Jordie tugs Tyler into the warmth of the spray. Wraps his arms around him.

It feels like being in another world, just the two of them, time slowed like the moment when the puck has been hit towards the net and the entire arena is holding their breath to see if it goes in.

“Turn around,” Tyler says, soft. “I’ll wash your back.”

Jordie turns and it’s probably for the best—his heart might be enjoying the warmth and the feel of Tyler’s hands on him, but his dick is skipping ahead to the next part, half-hard and sticking out at an awkward angle.

“Go ahead and jerk off,” Tyler says to him, soft like they’re actors on a stage, whispering direction to each other.

His hands slide around to the fronts of Jordie’s hips, fingertips just shy of Jordie’s pubic hair.

Jordie shivers and his hips jerk in the air.

“Wanted to wait and do it with you,” he says back. It would be so easy though, to reach down and touch himself. Tyler likes it when he touches himself, likes to watch him come.

Tyler’s teeth graze the back of his neck. “I’ll get you there, promise.” He does this thing with his hands, squeezing Jordie’s hips and urging him to rock into it, light pushes that his body falls into rhythm with.

“Fuck,” he groans, and gives in. Tips his head back against Tyler’s shoulder and wraps his hand around his dick.

It should be embarrassing to go so easy, but Tyler whispers “Yeah, yeah,” in his ear and he comes.

“Fuck,” he groans, his thoughts wiped clean by the orgasm.

Tyler holds him up while he gets his balance back, knees trembling. Jordie eventually gets the coordination to wash the soap off and they stumble out of the shower, laughing and bumping each other through the bathroom door.

Tyler falls on the bed on his back, spread out and naked and hard. Jordie’s dick gives a half-hearted twitch at the sight. His mouth waters.

“Hey,” Tyler says, propping himself up on his elbows. “You don’t have to finish this off if you don’t want to.”

He’s so sweet, and so absolutely wrong.

“I want,” Jordie says, clears his throat and says it again.

Tyler’s eyes glitter with mirth and he wiggles his ass closer to the edge of the bed. “Easiest this way,” he says and tosses a pillow down onto the floor. 

Jordie guesses Tyler would know, but he’s not gonna think about that for too long. He steps up into the V of Tyler’s legs, rubs his palms up and down the insides of Tyler’s thighs. He takes a breath, tries to remember what things the women who have done this for him did.

“Wait.”

Jordie sits back on his feet. Tyler isn’t freaking though. Bright spots of color highlight the apples of his cheeks. He twists around, opens the drawer on the bedside table.

“Was waiting for a special occasion and nearly forgot,” he says, which doesn’t make much sense when he passes Jordie a business size envelope, torn raggedly open at one end.

Tyler is still grinning, so Jordie pulls the piece of paper out, skims the name of some clinic, a list of illnesses down the left side, an unbroken string of negative negative negative down the right. His breath catches and then eases again.

“This is…”

“It’s been well over six months since I’ve had sexual contact, so…no condom?”

Jordie hesitates. “I got tested at the beginning of the season, but I hooked up over the summer. We were safe though.”

Tyler flicks his tongue over his lips, follows it with a scrape of his teeth. Jordie waits.

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “We can— if you want, you can blow me bare.”

And fuck does Jordie want to do that. Wants to feel and taste Tyler, to explore every inch of him with his tongue.

“We don’t have to,” he says instead of ‘yes.’

Tyler swallows. His dick is softer than it was two minutes ago. “I was. Thinking I could change it up.”

He rubs his hands along Tyler’s thighs, stroking high enough that he’s inches from Tyler’s balls. As much as he’d like to be the one Tyler does something different with, he doesn’t want to push him to take chances that makes him uncomfortable, even if the risk is as small as it is.

“Next time,” Jordie promises. “It’s been almost a year since I hooked up. I’ll get tested or whatever on the way back from practice.”

He reaches to the drawer on his side of the bed, digs through until he finds a condom, checks the date and is relieved to find it’s still good.

Tyler plucks it out of his fingers when he gets in range.

“Oh, no, you don’t want that,” he says, sits up and goes back into the drawer he got the letter out of. He pulls a different condom and the bottle of lube out of the drawer and drops Jordie’s condom into the little waste paper basket that’s on that side of the bed.

“You wanna do it or me?” he asks as he props himself back down where he had been.

As Tyler gets better at figuring out how not to be working, he’s getting so much freer with his body, naked with Jordie in the sunlit room.

“I want to take care of you,” Jordie says, and reaches for the packet. He tears open the foil and it’s not what he’s used to. Dry.

“You seriously didn’t want lube in your mouth,” Tyler tells him. Jordie gets it. If they were doing something other than oral, there would probably need to be more lube than would be in a rolled up condom, so the dry ones can do either.

He finds the right side and slides it down Tyler’s dick, hard again now that the condom issue is settled.

The newness of what he’s about to do hits him. Not in a bad way. Just. Wow. Tyler is gonna let him suck his dick.

Tyler scoots so his butt is at the edge of the bed again, props himself up on his elbows and that makes the angle better.

“You don’t have to,” Tyler reminds him.

Jordie realizes he’s been staring for a moment too long.

“No, I want to. I’m just not sure where to start.”

“You could start with your hand. Put your lips on the tip.”

Jordie does. Tyler’s abs jump as he takes a breath.

It’s weird, more than anything. Smooth and flavorless. He tries to make it feel good, stroking and bobbing his head as far as he thinks he can take it. Trying different speeds and angles.

His jaw gets sore and Tyler doesn’t seem any closer to coming.

“Hey,” Tyler whispers. When Jordie looks up, he nods his head towards the spot on the bed beside himself.

“Pull off the condom and come up here,” he suggests.

Jordie stops jerking him off and rolls the condom back off, drops it on the bedside table. He climbs into the bed, Tyler slim and strong next to him, lining them up so Tyler’s hip is against Jordie’s dick and Jordie’s thigh is against his. Jordie isn’t even sure when he got hard again, when his dick caught up to the play.

“Here,” Tyler says, and draws him into a kiss, warm and slick.

Jordie wraps his hand around Tyler’s dick, and Tyler gasps, a precious sound that Jordie catalogs among the other quiet pleasure noises Tyler makes.

“Better,” Tyler breathes into his mouth, and Jordie doesn’t want ‘better,’ he wants ‘good.’ He would spit in his hand, but he’s not sure how Tyler feels about that, safety-wise. He goes for the lube instead, squirting a haphazard splash over Tyler’s dick. He can grab tighter with that, and Tyler thrusts up into his hand like he can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Tyler pants. Jordie kisses his lips but Tyler’s too close to coordinate kissing him in return, head tossed back and eyes unfocused. Jordie nips down Tyler’s jaw, licks and bites down his throat and fastens his lips on the big muscle at the side of his neck.

“Do it,” Tyler gasps. Begs. Jordie doesn’t think Tyler’s ever begged him before. He bites lightly and sucks hard, and Tyler comes all over his own stomach, over Jordie’s hand, groaning and whining.

“I got you,” Jordie murmurs, licks over the hickey he left to soothe it.

Tyler goes lax under him as the orgasm fades.

“Wanna do that forever,” Tyler pants. “Wanna come with you. So good.”

Jordie smears the jizz around on Tyler’s abs. Feels him twitch as Jordie hits ticklish spots, as the wetness cools in the apartment’s air-conditioning.

He wants to stare at the come-dumb softness of Tyler’s face for an hour, but he gets up to get a washcloth anyway.

“Hey, you want to—” Tyler asks with a meaningful glance to Jordie’s crotch. He’s halfway to soft though, and it doesn’t seem urgent.

“Nah. I’m good.” He crawls back into bed beside Tyler, flips the free side of the comforter over them. A lot of the people Jordie has been with would have been insulted to get turned down, but Tyler doesn’t seem to mind.

“Next time,” Tyler starts, and Jordie listens for whatever advice he’s about to give. He might not know what the hell he’s doing, but he can take direction.

“Next time will be easier. Without a condom. I should have given you more. Touched you more and let you know when you were doing it right.”

He sounds apologetic and not instructive.

“Did you want to give me more?” Jordie asks. “More touch, more what, noise?”

Tyler looks half embarrassed, half surprised. “Yeah. I. It’s what I would have done. Before. Taking a guy through his first time. I was trying so hard not to fall into that habit that I short-changed us both.”

Jordie slides his hand up and down the soft skin of Tyler’s stomach, feeling the line of his happy trail, the little patch of hairs in the center of his chest.

“It’s just one fuck,” Jordie says, and tries to let his own feeling of inadequacy go as well.

“Plenty of time to practice,” Tyler says back. It should be teasing but it’s not.

“Hey,” Tyler says after a beat of silence. “You think I should get into therapy or something?”

That’s sure as hell not the conversation Jordie expected in the aftermath of performing his first blow-job. He takes a moment, thinks about his words.

“If you’re asking if I’m in a rush, no. I think you, we, are making progress. If you’ve been thinking about it for your own sake, I’d say wondering if you should do therapy is a good sign you should do therapy.”

Tyler nuzzles his shoulder. He doesn’t seem upset in any way.

“Okay. Good talk,” he says in imitation of somebody’s awkward dad after sex ed.

Jordie kisses his head and holds him close.


	45. Looking forward

Mrs. Busari opens the door at Tyler’s knock. Livvie gives her the quickest hello ever and runs inside calling for Gideon to come look at her drawing.

“Tyler,” Mrs. Busari says, steps out onto the balcony that runs around the second level of the building instead of going back inside her apartment. She closes the door behind her, and Tyler moves back to give her a polite amount of space.

“What’s up?”

She looks…he’s not sure what it is. Something like sad, but not it exactly.

“Is everything okay? The boys?”

She shakes her head. “Everything is fine. It is only that I have been offered a new job, working in a hospital.”

Her last job was shitty, and she’d been working to find something other than another nursing home.

“That’s awesome.”

He tries to reconcile her expression with having a new job.

“It is in Denton,” she says gently and his smile falters.

That’s practically an hour away, in the best-possible traffic. That’s…shit.

“I’m guessing you’re not planning to commute,” he says.

“No, it is too far, and I will be working in the day.”

“Wow, that’s…” he knows he should be thinking of himself, what he’s going to do, how he’ll get a sitter for Livvie for his fucked up schedule, but all he can focus on is losing his friend.

“When’s the move?”

“Two weeks.”

Tyler nods. “Let me know when, and I’ll help. I’ll bring Jordie, if he’s around.”

“That would be very kind. I am sorry, Tyler.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s. I’ll figure something out.” He hesitates. “Denton isn’t all that far. I could come up and have lunch with you sometime.”

“I would like that very much, and you and Livvie are always welcome in my home.”

He takes a breath. He wants to hug her, but she has never initiated physical contact. “Thank you. For all you’ve done for us. For me and Livvie. I don’t think we’d have made it without you.”

“It was no hardship—Livvie is a joy, and your ‘big tipper’ days have made the short weeks at work easier to bear.”

He shrugs. It’s just money. He should have given her more, for all she’s done.

“Hey, if you get in a bind, you know you can call me too, right? If there’s anything, ever.”

The kids scream behind the door but it’s the happy kind.

“I can still take the boys to breakfast sometimes on Saturday morning,” Tyler offers. There have to be some good Play Places up there

“They would miss their sister too much if you didn’t.”

================

 

Jordie pokes stuffing into the slice in the thick pork chops, glares at the equal-sized glob that falls out. Who the hell thought something so flat needed to be stuffed. He’s calling bullshit on this recipe, seriously.

Juice tries to sniff what Jordie’s working on and Tyler nudges him back out of the kitchen and then pauses to look over Jordie’s shoulder. He has never chirped Jordie for his cooking, and he doesn’t start now.

“Want me to hold it open while you stuff it?”

That _would_ give Jordie two hands to work with. The pork is just so floppy.

“Yeah, okay, we can try that.”

Tyler gets a pair of forks and puts them both into the slice in the chop and uses that to pry it open. Jordie stuffs the goop into it and then squeezes it shut while Tyler pulls the forks out.

They get the other five done the same and Jordie gets them on the broiler pan and into the oven. Tyler whisks the cooking implements away as soon as Jordie puts them down and loads the dishwasher.

Afternoons when Livvie is with the grandparents used to be hard on Tyler, but the Hudsons are starting to rebuild his trust, and he seems a lot lighter than he had in the first few weeks of the new visitation agreement. Still, when Jordie isn’t on a road trip, he likes to give Tyler the option of his company as much as he can. They could have offered to take Ian and his sister out to lunch, instead of cooking, but this gives them time together, working in each other's space, close and comfortable.

He checks the clock. Their guests should be arriving just as the chops come out of the oven. The kitchen is clean and the table set.

Tyler is trying to scrape a speck off of the counter that Jordie is pretty sure is just a grain in the granite, so Jordie comes up behind him, wraps him in his arms. Kisses the back of Tyler’s neck, kisses the hickey he left through Tyler’s t-shirt. They both know it’s there.

“We do not have time to start something,” Tyler warns.

Jordie shrugs. “I like this part too. Doesn’t have to be more than this.”

Tyler sighs but it doesn’t sound aggravated. Jordie tugs him over to the couch, sits and lets Tyler settle where he wants. Tyler apparently wants to straddle him, so that’s okay.

They kiss for a while, hands kept carefully above waists until Juice pokes his cold wet nose at the sole of Tyler’s bare foot and sends him into a fit of giggles.

It’s probably for the best that the mood is broken—Jordie doesn’t want to meet his guests with a hard-on.

Tyler shifts off of him. They jostle around and settle again, Tyler sitting at the end of the couch and Jordie with his head in Tyler’s lap. That works too, less likely to have them distracted when their company arrives.

It’s nice, Tyler smiling down at him, fingers running through his hair. Jordie calls Juice over and scratches behind his ears.

Jordie’s mind strays to thoughts of the future, of being here, doing this, for years and years.

“Hey, so uh, this summer,” Jordie starts. “Does Livvie have a passport?”

Tyler’s fingers pause where they were petting him.

“Uh, yeah? I thought I was gonna take her home with me for a while there at the beginning.”

The Stars aren’t going to the playoffs again. Neither is Detroit, but the Red Wings have higher expectations, missed the wildcard spot by two wins. Jordie spares a thought to hope Jamie’s taking it okay.

“Mom was asking about the off-season. How much she should expect me to be home.”

Tyler’s leg shifts a little underneath him.

“Dude, go see your family.”

Jordie reaches up. The angle is weird and the best he can get is cupping Tyler’s shoulder awkwardly in his hand.

“My family is here, too. My parents want to meet you and Livvie. She’s been calling Livvie ‘my grand-baby’ for months now.”

Tyler quirks that little smile that means he finds Jordie ridiculous and is totally into it.

“Let me see what I can do about work and all,” he says. “I’m not sure…” Tyler takes a breath, stops whatever he was going to say.

Jordie hesitates, because offering Tyler money is always such a touchy issue.

“I could uh, pick up your rent. I know you need that place for when you get Livvie after work and it’s too late to drive here, but if it wasn’t for that, I’d ask you to move in, like—formally.”

There’s a pause, like back when Tyler was policing his every bodily reaction to Jordie’s touch. Jordie gives him time to figure out what he’s really feeling, still and quiet, present but not pushing for an answer.

“I am never gonna make an NHL salary,” Tyler says. “It would be dumb for me to try to pay for half of everything.”

He doesn’t seem quite convinced.

Jordie shrugs. “An NHL career doesn’t last a lifetime. I’m trying to be smart with my money, but when it’s over, I’ll be playing catch-up with the rest of the guys who went straight to college or whatever after high school, started their careers already. We might pass in the middle and you end up the breadwinner in a few years.”

Tyler humphs at him.

Jordie frowns. Fights against the wave of inadequacy that rises in his head. Jamie’s kind of money might last most of a lifetime—Jordie’s will last…a tenth of that. Longer if he can play a few years in the AHL somewhere, if the wear and tear on his body is even worth what they’ll offer him, but there’s no guarantee. He can’t let Tyler count on support that won’t last forever.

“No, I’m serious. I’m not exaggerating. Right now, I’m making pretty good money, even after all the taxes and stuff. I haven’t looked much past that.” Shit, it hits him then, that he needs to plan. If, if this works out, if him and Tyler and Livvie are still a family by the time he retires, however long that is, he’ll need something to do, somebody to _be_.

He takes a breath. Re-centers.

“I really want you to come home with me. See where I came from. Meet my family and maybe, maybe a few of my friends.” He can think of a few that he trusts to know him and Tyler are together, a few more that could meet Tyler as a friend.

He would love to meet Tyler’s family too, but Tyler doesn’t really talk about them. Jordie knows his mother called at Christmas, and there were cards on the island at the apartment.

“I get that taking a couple weeks off would be a financial hardship and I’m just trying to take that part out of your decision-making. I’d love for the two of you to spend the whole summer with me, but that’s…a lot for me to ask for.”

Tyler searches his face and Jordie tries to look as serious as he feels.

“You mean that? Like—if I could swing it, you’d want that.”

“Yeah,” Jordie breathes. “I want you. Both of you. In my life in any way I can get, as much as you can give me without making things too hard for you. We could rent a little house in the hills, or go on a whale-watching cruise. Anything you want.”

Tyler nods and looks thoughtful.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Three sharp taps on the door announce their guests. Jordie scrambles up, Tyler behind him.

========

Tyler’s met Holly before. She’s sweet and funny. Two mimosas into lunch, she’s hilarious.

“I have never, ever seen a kid puke like that. Right on the principal’s shoes. You should have seen her face.”

Tyler’s only had one, but the mental picture gives him the giggles, and Jordie puts his arm around Tyler’s shoulders. It feels good and he leans into it.

“Oh man,” Jordie says. “Christmas Eve, like one in the morning, and Livvie comes into the bedroom…”

Tyler listens with half an ear as Jordie tells about Tyler with puke down his entire back.

Ian meets Tyler’s eyes over the table. Raises his eyebrows and flicks his gaze to Jordie and back. Tips his shoulders in a way that Tyler takes to mean ‘I guess you were right,’ but also that Ian is happy for him.

Jordie tells the Christmas barf story and then the time Livvie shared her ice cream spoon with Juice, trading off bites with the dog. Ian tells about the otherwise-vanilla client who changes his voice to a cartoon squeak when he’s getting close and Tyler talks about this regular at Abrea that has called him every endearment in the book. She’s at least seventy years old.

It’s good, and easy, and he’s almost forgotten the reason they invited Holly over when she says “Oh! Where’s your computer? I need to show you schools.”

Tyler gets up for Jordie’s laptop while Jordie and Ian move the glasses out of the way. Holly opens the laptop, types in a website and angles it so it’s easier to see. Tyler scoots his chair around the table and Jordie moves his too.

“Okay, to find what school a prospective address will route Livvie to, you can go here to Zillow, put in a city, pull up all schools and then start your house-hunt as close to the one you want as you can.”

Tyler leans close. Okay, this doesn’t seem bad. He gives her the address of his current place and she types it in.

“Okay, it’s a seven, which is a bit above average. The number isn’t everything; it might be a really good school. The rating is just the average student’s state testing compared to state average. You can click here to get a detailed analysis, see what the difference is between girls’ and boys’ scores are, the percentage of kids on free lunch.”

She points and it all looks okay, Tyler guesses.

“Teacher to student ratio is good, suspensions are low. I’d want to take a tour and meet some of the staff, but if I liked what I saw, I’d have no major concerns putting my child there.”

Gideon and Augustin used to always seem happy when they came home from school, and he knows they’re getting good grades. Mrs. Busari isn’t the kind of mom to let them slack on the homework though.

He’d never thought he could just keep his apartment.

“What does it take to show Livvie lives somewhere?” Jordie asks.

“A utility bill to the address with the custodial parent’s name on it.”

Tyler and Livvie practically live here—it seems like it would be easy to change the water bill to Tyler’s name. He just. Doesn’t want Jordie to feel forced into it.

“What about that one with a ten?”

Holly nods. He needs to do something nice for her for being so patient with this, for holding his hand through something a parent should know how to do.

“So here’s the truth of standardized testing. There is a direct correlation between income and scores. Those are going to be whiter schools in fancier neighborhoods. That doesn’t mean the teachers are better or the kids are smarter. You’ve got more stay-at-home parents with more time, money and energy to spend on their kids. They change addresses less. More volunteer hours, more students who have taken paid test prep.”

Tyler turns that over in his head and tries to imagine the kind of school he wants Livvie in.


	46. 2 week notice

Jordie and Tyler walk their guests to the door and say their goodbyes. Holly and Tyler are still talking schools and Ian moves in to hug Jordie.

Jordie hadn’t thought him and Ian were at the bro-hugs stage of their tentative friendship, so he braces himself for the world’s shortest, quietest shovel speech.

“You’re doing good,” Ian whispers in his ear instead, and Jordie is so startled he can’t even say thanks.

It takes a while, but Holly stops shouting last-minute advice over her shoulder and Ian waves and Tyler shuts the door.

“I told you Ian likes you,” Tyler says, bumping into Jordie on his way back to the table. The plates are already in the kitchen, but he gathers up the glasses and a spare butter knife that got left out while Jordie wipes down the tabletop. He’s got to go get Livvie and then go to work in a few hours.

He seems—not unhappy, but maybe overwhelmed.

“That was a lot to take in,” Jordie offers. “I had no idea there was so much.”

Tyler takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. It’s. There’s more to it than I thought. I’m gonna have to tour the school by the apartment before they close. See what I think of it. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

Jordie joins him at the sink, smooths his hands over Tyler’s shoulders.

“You could make yourself crazy trying to pick the very best, and the very best might not be the very best for Livvie. Don’t take too much on yourself. Mrs. Busari has been happy with the one her boys go to, right?”

Tyler gets more tense instead of less.

“I need to tell you something,” he says in a rush.

“Couch?” Jordie suggests. Tyler doesn’t talk until they’re sitting.

“Gideon and Augustin aren’t going to that school next year. They. Mrs. Busari got a job offer. She told me last night. It’s too far for her to commute. She’s looking for a new place.”

Jordie winces. Shit, that’s gonna tear Tyler’s schedule to pieces.

“So I don’t need to keep the apartment.”

Jordie squeezes Tyler’s fingers, grounds him. Grounds himself against the surge of hope.

“Is this saying you’ll accept the offer to move in officially, or you letting me down easy?” Jordie asks. He’ll take either; he just needs to know.

“I should have told you earlier,” Tyler says. “About Mrs. Busari moving.”

Jordie tries to think what it would have changed but he can’t come up with anything. “You told me when you were ready.”

Tyler nods. Glances up at Jordie uncertainly.

“I didn’t want to move in because I had no other options, and I didn’t want you to think you had to invite us because we’d be screwed otherwise. But now I don’t have to move for the school. I could stay there. I’ve been making rent fine. I could find a student to come sit with Livvie—she’s asleep most of the time they’d be babysitting anyway.”

Jordie waits.

Tyler’s smile is tremulous, hopeful and worried. Jordie wants to kick the ass of every person in his life who has ever made him feel disposable.

“I want you,” Jordie says, quiet and firm. “I love you, and I love Livvie, and I would be the happiest man on earth if we could move in together, officially.”

Tyler laughs in relief, the tension broken. If Jordie had a ring he’d get down on one knee.

“Let me check out the school closest to here,” Tyler says.

“You pick the school,” Jordie tells him. “You pick it, any school, anywhere, and we’ll find a little house with a yard and a swing. Someplace that’s not mine or yours. Our house.”

“You’re serious,” Tyler says as his smile fades to something softer.

Jordie leans in and kisses him.

“I’ll wait. If this is too soon, I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be happy with this decision.” He’ll wait forever, if that’s what it takes, even if Tyler never gives up the safety net of having his own place to run to if things go sideways.

Tyler smiles, twitchy like he’s trying to smother it. “You wanna look at that real-estate site?” he asks.

They spend the rest of the afternoon before Tyler has to leave stretched out on the couch, the laptop between them, talking commutes and neighborhoods, figuring out how much house their budget can buy.

It feels like a huge step, but not one that’s rushed or impulsive.

===============

Tyler taps on Walter’s door. They don’t interact much, not anymore than Walter does with the wait-staff or the kitchen crew. Companionable greetings as he goes by, a word or two of encouragement when it’s been a rough day and Tyler is on the way out, or that time a customer made an ass of theirself and Walter had Tyler’s back. He doesn’t think they’re friends, so this might count as his one free favor.

“Tyler, hi. What can I do for you?”

“Hey, I’ve got a uh, special opportunity that I wanted to run by you.”

Walter closes his laptop and folds his hands atop it.

“I’m listening.”

Tyler closes the door and takes the chair, wedging his knees under the desk in the cramped space.

“So, I’ve been invited to spend most of the summer with my boyfriend up in Canada. But. I don’t want to leave Abrea in the lurch. I called Reese, and he’s not taking any summer classes, and could use the money. When I get back, I’ll step back in.”

Walter looks thoughtful.

“That’s very considerate of you. I am concerned though. Is this trip related to your ‘previous employment?’”

Tyler’s face warms as blood rushes to just below the surface.

“No, it’s, no, nothing to do with that. I’m retired. Completely retired. He’s not that kind of guy.”

Walter raises an eyebrow. “Guys who aren’t ‘that kind of guy’ are few and far between, kid. I’m just worried for you.”

Tyler’s blush is for a different reason now, embarrassment over being so totally gone for Jordie. “He’s. He knows what I used to do. I took a hiatus, from even unpaid sex. For like four months. He never pushed, not once. He’s worth taking a chance on.”

Walter’s eyes go wide, apparently not expecting Tyler to bring up sex. Shit, it’s hard to find the lines with a guy who’s had his dick inside him.

Then Walter’s expression breaks, surprise going into worry. “I didn’t. Carl and I, we weren’t…a bad memory, were we?”

Tyler smiles and shakes his head. “Nah, you guys were awesome. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t anybody really. Just time to move on, do something different. Figure out who I was.”

Walter nods and keeps nodding like he doesn’t know how to stop.

“I’m happy for you, then. That you’re happy. I’m alright with the job-share if Lydia is, but if Reese doesn’t want to give it back in the fall, I’m not going to fire him for you.”

Tyler nods. That’s a risk, but one he can take.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

He stands up and wipes his palms on his slacks, not sure when he got nervous enough to sweat so much.

“You’re doing good work, Tyler. We appreciate you here. It would be a shame to lose you.”

“I’d miss you guys,” Tyler says, and it’s not a lie.

=============

Jordie hates having his parents pick him up so late, but the car rental place at the airport closes for the night three hours before his flight gets in, and it would offend their thrifty sensibilities for him to take a cab when they’ve got a perfectly good vehicle.

He’s glad of it when he comes to baggage claim and his mom is there, arms open. He wraps her in a hug and breathes in the mom-smell of her hair.

“Oh, we missed you,” she groans as he resists lifting her off her feet.

“Missed you guys too,” he says when he lets her go.

“You must, if you left Dallas to come see us.”

 _If you left Tyler,_ she means.

She’s not wrong. The two weeks Jordie be in Saanich before Tyler arrives feel like forever.


	47. Getting the 'mom' treatment

His childhood bed always feels strange, the first few nights he spends at home, but Jordie got in late after a morning of moving the last of Tyler and Livvie’s stuff to his apartment and an afternoon of travel. He’s tired enough that he sleeps in the next day, or at least what would be ‘sleeping in’ for Dallas time. Which means he wakes up painfully early Saanich time.

He’s surprised anyone else is up, but he follows the smell of bacon downstairs, finds his mom and brother both in the small kitchen. He looks at the clock on the microwave and figures dad’s already gone to work.

“It’s almost ready, go ahead and set the table,” Mom tells them, nudging against Jamie’s side to get enough room to open the fridge. Jamie reaches over her to the cabinet, passes the trio of plates to Jordie and brings over the glasses himself. 

Mom fills their plates from the frying pans and Jordie gets coffee into their cups. The three of them sit and eat and Jordie’s plate is half empty when he notices Mom hasn’t touched her silverware, that she’s sitting and watching the two of them.

Like Jordie noticing has freed whatever was holding her back, she folds her hands in front of her and says “Enough is enough.”

Jamie coughs and looks up, eyes wide and startled. 

“I tried to let you work this out and respect that you are grown men who could handle their own relationship, but apparently I was wrong. I have given you almost the _entire season_ to straighten this out yourselves, and you’re still sitting on opposite ends of the table, not speaking to each other, not even _looking each other in the eye_ and I won’t have it.”

Jordie didn’t plan to shun Jamie, he’s just too tired to not react if Jamie says the wrong thing. There’s something ironic about that fact that their mother’s displeasure is the thing that makes Jordie look to Jamie, to meet his ‘oh shit’ expression with one of his own. 

“We uh, we talked,” Jordie protests. “In Detroit, when the Stars played there.”

“I’ve never seen you two mad at each other for this long,” she says like she doesn’t believe him. 

Jordie takes a breath. “Jamie apologized. I accepted. It’s just going to take some time for me to get past it. I’m trying. I don’t want us to be mad. I’m not really mad.”

He glances at Jamie. 

“Am I wrong?”

Jamie shakes his head, but his jaw is clenched tight.

“Tyler will be here in two weeks,” Mom says like Jordie doesn’t know that. “How will he feel, with the two of you stalking around each other like this?”

“No,” Jamie blurts. “No, it’s okay. I’m gonna go up to the lake with the guys then, and I’ve got some friends to hang out with.”

Mom’s eyes narrow.

“So it _is_ a Tyler problem.”

Jordie sighs and puts his head in his hands. 

“You better have a good explanation for how you’re acting, Jamie, because we didn’t raise you kids to be like this.”

“It’s not like that,” Jamie protests. 

“It’s not like that,” Jordie agrees. 

Mom waits them out. It’s like being fourteen all over again.

“I was jealous,” Jamie mumbles. Jordie looks up and Jamie looks up, his eyes pleading, and Jordie sighs. There’s no getting out of this.

He gives Jamie a ‘go ahead’ shrug, and a warning glance that he’ll never forgive if Jamie tells Mom that Tyler used to do sex work.

“We dated. Me and Tyler. Like, from after I became captain until I got traded.”

Mom gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. Turns to give Jordie the stink-eye. 

“And when did you start dating Tyler?” 

Jordie coughs. This isn’t something he should be embarrassed by. “After the fight?”

That settles her a little. “Wow, both of you?” she murmurs, and then shakes her head like it doesn’t matter.

Jamie shrugs. “Anyway, I was dumb, I apologized. I just…” he trails off. 

“We’re working on it,” Jordie says, firm. “We’ll work on it until Tyler comes in. While Tyler is here, Jamie’s gonna go see friends. Tyler, Livvie and me are renting one of those cabins on the shore and we’ll spend some time out there while Jamie is here with family.”

It is definitely not ideal from a mother’s point of view, but she looks thoughtful.

“It sounds like you boys have it all planned out.” 

Jordie shrugs. Jamie pushes his eggs around on his plate. 

“I don’t want to mess things up for Jordie,” Jamie says. “Sorry is more than saying some words. It’s taking steps to repair the relationship and prevent the problem from reoccurring.” 

He looks up, from mom to Jordie and back to his breakfast, color rising on his cheeks. 

“I fucked up,” Jamie says, veering from therapy-speak back to hockey-language. It’s a testament to how tense the situation is that he swears in front of their mom. Even more that he gets away with it. “I’m gonna be the best brother I can while Jordie and I are here together, and give them the space they asked for once Tyler comes. I don’t know what else to do.”

“It’ll get better,” Jordie promises. He’s not sure if he’s telling Mom or Jamie or himself. He’s not gonna let their brotherhood fall to pieces without doing everything in his power to fix it. 

He’ll do what it takes, whatever he can, but he draws the line at anything that’ll hurt Tyler or damage their relationship. 

=========

They work on it. Like they promised Mom, like they promised each other. There are long stretches where words are dangerous, when they spend days out on the dock, fishing, or on a boat they rent on the lake, barely speaking. It’s not the easy quiet they had before, but it isn’t bad.

What’s bad is the tension in Jamie, the half-dozen times he looks ready to speak but doesn’t. 

It takes three beers in the lounge chairs in the back yard, Jamie and Jordie alone after the rest of the family has gone to bed for Jamie to find his voice. Jordie stares up at the stars—he missed them being in Dallas, the city lights hiding all but the brightest.

“Are you happy?”

Jordie isn’t sure what he expected Jamie’s first serious words to him since the reconciliation in Detroit to be, but that’s not it. 

“I missed you,” Jordie admits. “More than just you playing for a different team…”

Jamie is quiet for long moments. 

“I meant. With him. I keep. I wasn’t good at it. Dealing with his work, but I know you, and I just. I just worry about you.”

Jordie doesn’t know how to answer that without telling Jamie stuff that’s none of his business, but he can get why Jamie would worry—he’s not the possessive type, but he’s loyal, and values loyalty.

“Did he warn you he lies?” Jamie asks in a breathless rush, so afraid to piss Jordie off, but like he can’t stand to let Jordie walk blind into a problem either. “When. When we were together. Me and him. He told me up front. It’s what he does. What he’s good at.”

“We’re good,” Jordie says into the dark. “There are…a lot of issues that we had to work through. I love him. There’s no part of him that I’m putting up with for the sake of having the rest.”

Jamie sighs. “I’m glad. I’m really glad. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want you mad at me, but I’d rather that than you get hurt.”

“Fighting with you would hurt,” Jordie admits. He’s had a few beers too.

===========

“You think he was being an asshole about it?” 

As much as Jordie doesn’t want Tyler to be negative about Jamie, there’s something about the protective outrage in Tyler’s voice that he appreciates—that he’s important enough, he matters enough, for someone to be offended on his behalf. 

“I don’t think he was,” Jordie soothes. “I think he was genuinely worried about me. Enough to risk setting back our relationship to ask about it.”

Tyler makes a little hum that’s impossible to read.

“I’d like to tell him,” Jordie says. “Not any kind of detail. Just that you’d retired before we got together. That you’d quit for you and not for me.”

Tyler is quiet for a moment, and Jordie picks at a chip in the paint on his desk. 

“Would it make you feel better?” Tyler asks, just the slightest emphasis on the ‘you.’ “To be able to say you’re not dating a sex worker?”

Jordie nearly drops his phone. Shit. 

“No, no, that’s not it at all. No.” He takes a breath. “If you were still working, it would be…complicated. We’d need to work on some stuff. I’d need to find a way to be okay with it, but I love you, so I’d figure it the fuck out. But being ashamed of you would never ever be a factor.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, soft and small. 

“I love you,” Jordie repeats. “I don’t need to tell Jamie. None of his business, really.” 

If he’d known it would shake Tyler’s confidence he’d never have asked. 

“I love you too.” Tyler always gets so quiet when he says it, like the universe will smack him down for daring to have this. “You can tell him. I trust you to know how much.”

“You okay?” Jordie asks. It’s frustrating, to be in the off-season and not be _with_ Tyler, but he’d had another two schools to tour and he’d been adamant that Jordie get some family time without his S.O. ‘in the way.’

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I am. Looking forward to seeing you. Four days.”

Jordie smiles. Lays down on his bed. “I can’t wait for you to get here. Mom’s saying if you’re okay with it, she could come get Livvie while we’re at the cabin, give us a few days of alone-time.”

“I’d like the alone-time,” Tyler says. So not so much on the other part.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it. We’ve got a week with my family before our reservation. Time enough to see if Livvie will be okay with them.”

Tyler’s voice holds a smile. “I’m sure Livvie will be good with it. Between the Hudsons and Mrs. Busari’s, she has more sleep-overs than sleep-at-homes.”

“We’ll play it by ear,” Jordie promises. 

“Sounds good.” Tyler promising to give it a chance. “Did you get a chance to look at those real estate listings I sent you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Did you get a chance to tour any of them? That yellow one is the right size, but we’d have to re-do the kitchen…”


	48. Home comes to Jordie

Tyler doesn’t really start to second-guess his decision to encourage Jordie to head north without him until it’s noon and he’s in DFW airport with a child who has never flown before. The planes taxi around the tarmac and Livvie watches, awed by the sizes and pretty colors.

She has a lot of energy. Maybe more than he does.

At the time, the decision to send Jordie ahead had seemed so logical. Tyler would get Livvie’s last visit of the month with her grandparents over, and work the last few days until Reese finished his classes. That would let Jordie have some quality time with his family before Tyler got there and they became pretty much in each other’s space twenty-four/seven for a month. It’s not that Tyler thinks Jordie will get sick of him, just, he gets that Jordie sees him all the time and he doesn’t see his parents and sister. And Jamie. Jordie is spending time with Jamie, but they’ve both promised that Tyler doesn’t have to see him if he doesn’t want to, that Jamie will make himself scarce for as long as Tyler’s there if that’s what he needs. 

Tyler isn’t sure what he needs. His relationship with Jamie seems so distant at this point, over half a year since it imploded. Just another client he’s put behind him. Walter deals with it pretty well, but he hadn’t been a regular like Jamie.

Their mom knows, that Tyler dated them both, and it makes for a level of awkward that is almost hard to contemplate. God, what must they think of him?

“Who’s that one?” Livvie point to the white plane with the familiar red maple leaf on the side.

“That’s ours, Livvie. That’s the one we’re gonna take to go see Jordie.”

“Ugh, kids.”

Tyler looks over his shoulder. Some douche in a suit is talking into a cell-phone, rolling his eyes at Livvie’s enthusiasm. 

“At least they’ll be in the back. I just don’t want to listen to some brat scream the whole way.”

“Air Canada 332 is preparing to board for LAX,” the person at the desk says through the intercom. “First class, persons who require assistance and parents with children under two may come to the pre-boarding area.”

“That’s us, Livvie-girl,” Tyler says, and scoops her up as she turns to him, gets her on one hip so she doesn’t run off and the carry-on bag of airplane amusements on his other shoulder. 

“…no, I’m just waiting to watch the stewardess shut down this guy who’s trying to board early with a kid that’s gotta be six years old…right, right, ‘air hosts.’”

Tyler knows there are perfectly good reasons that Jordie offered to spring for first-class tickets, but honestly, it’s worth it just for the look on the guy’s face when the agent at the desk scans Tyler’s tickets with a smile.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Seguin. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your flight an enjoyable one.”

Tyler glances over his shoulder and grins at the sour look on McBusiness’s face.

Worth. Every. Penny.

===========

Tyler is grateful for the first class tickets for more reasons than pissing off stuck-up assholes who think they’re better than him by the time they transfer over at LAX. Livvie took flying about as well as he could hope on the first leg of the journey. Fussing about her ears hurting but willing to try the ways to soothe them that Tyler suggests. The flight attendant is kind, offering her an extra juice and bringing a little pillow when she can’t get comfortable. 

At least he has the room to move around in, space to straighten his legs, a seat big enough for her to curl up and nap for a few minutes. 

She gets bored with the view of the ocean as soon as they’re high enough that there’s nothing identifiable to see. He entertains her with snacks and a video on his tablet, but she’s restless.

“Want to color?”

Livvie pouts. “I hate this coloring book.”

“Aww, but you love My Little Pony, right?”

“The pictures are too big. The marker looks ugly.”

He digs through the bag, looking for a better book even though he knows he doesn’t have one. “Hey, how about your radio? You want that?” She’s had the Baby Einstein music toy since she was a newborn.

“No! I want to color!”

“Hey,” he says, soft but serious. Looks at her like Jordie would until she pouts at him but doesn’t yell again. 

An idea occurs to him. He passes her a marker and rolls up his sleeve, baring all those beautiful black and white tattoos. “Here, you want to color this?”

Her eyes go wide. Yes! Parenting success. 

“Do a good job. Let me know when you want a different color.”

Livvie colors, pleased with the offer and intent on her work. The marker is cool on his skin, the press of her other hand grounding him as much as her. Tyler puts an earbud in one ear and pulls his show up on the tablet. Crisis averted.

At least until she runs out of arm.

========

Jordie gets to the airport early, leaves the car in short-term parking and heads inside to wait, as close to Tyler and Livvie’s gate as he can be without going the wrong way through customs. 

It’s eerie, being in the airport so late, though he guesses it was like this when he came in from Dallas; he was just too tired to notice. The snack and gift stores are closed, and he starts trying to remember where he saw the last fast food place that might be open at this hour in case Livvie gets off the plane hangry.

People start coming down the corridor, all of them tired and looking like zombies as they plod through on a single-minded quest to get the fuck home.

He starts to worry as the crowd thins out, heading for baggage claim, and there Tyler is, bringing up the rear, Livvie on one shoulder, fast asleep, a messenger bag on the other. 

Nobody is looking at anybody, and it doesn’t feel like much of a risk to lean in and peck a light kiss to Tyler’s cheek, rest a hand on Livvie’s back.

“You want me to take her or the bag?” 

“Bag,” Tyler murmurs back. “Don’t want to risk waking her up.”

They walk, quiet, elbows brushing. Tyler looks exhausted and Jordie wishes there was more he could do for him. 

They deal with picking up Tyler’s luggage and the car seat, and Jordie leads the way to the car he borrowed from his parents. He’s thinking about getting a rental, so he won’t make things more complicated for them when he takes Tyler and Livvie out to the little cabin he rented. 

Livvie wakes up enough to fuss a little when Tyler puts her in her seat. He gives her a cracker and she falls back asleep with it in her hand.

Jordie drives back to his parents’ house. They are already in bed—mom had offered to stay up and fix Tyler something to eat, but Jordie had convinced her Tyler would rather do drive-thru and save any kind of social interaction for when he was well-rested.

Jordie’s childhood room isn’t big, but somehow he doesn’t think Tyler will turn his nose up at the size of the bed. His parents brought in a little mini-futon-thing along the side. Tyler lays Livvie down and then stands there like he’s too tired to figure out what to do next.

Jordie slides the jacket off of Tyler’s shoulders. A glint of color catches Jordie’s eye, the tree and heart of his tattoo bright with rich, saturated hues. 

“New ink?”

Tyler quirks a tired smile. 

“Little Miss Markers colored me on the plane. Kept her busy for an hour.”

Jordie shakes his head. “Looks good though. Pretty. I’ll tell her when she wakes up.” 

Together, they go through their nightly routine, Jordie showing Tyler where everything is.

“I don’t get it,” Tyler says at one point, gesturing with his toothbrush. “It’s only three AM in Dallas. Why am I so tired?”

Jordie bumps his shoulder, nods at him to finish what he’s doing. “Because she didn’t go to pre-school so you didn’t nap, and you guys were flying at midnight Dallas-time, so you missed the nap between getting off work and picking her up at Mrs. Busari’s too. You handled a small child for twelve hours? Nah, that couldn’t have much to do with it…”

“Asshole,” Tyler says with great affection. 

Jordie leads him back down the hall to the bedroom and guides him into bed, checks on Livvie one last time and turns off the light. 

“Love you,” Tyler breathes out as he’s falling asleep. 

Jordie wraps around him and holds him close. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, probably during Seguin's first season as a Star, this came across my dash on tumbrl: 
> 
> alexburrowsishot:  
> Imagine: In a few years Tyler Seguin has a daughter and she colors in his tattoos with markers
> 
> Which was the little seed of an idea that made me add parenthood to sex-worker!Tyler's life. So wherever you are, whatever name you're using now, alexburrowsishot, this one's for you. :)


	49. Drive

There’s a right way and a wrong way to meet the parents of one’s boyfriend. The right way is something along the lines of _completely dressed_ and mostly awake and Tyler is neither, stumbling to the bathroom down the hall in his boxer-briefs and t-shirt. It’s probably in his favor that he’s guiding Livvie to the toilet when he steps out of the bedroom and nearly walks into Jordie’s mother.

“Mrs. Benn. Hi. Sorry.” Livvie is truly on the edge of an emergency so he scoops her up under her armpits and swoops her past and into the bathroom. 

He helps Livvie get the loose dress she traveled and slept in up and her leggings down and keeps her from falling off of the potty in her sleepy and uncoordinated state. 

He’s not sure where Jordie went or when he got up. Tyler kind of wants to be salty about it, even though he knows there was no way for Jordie to predict this turn of events. It’s not often that he feels any kind of shame about his body or nudity, but his face feels like it’s on fire. 

He supervises Livvie washing her hands and cools his cheeks with a handful of water while she cleans up. 

“Ready?” he asks when she’s done, but he’s mostly psyching himself up. He can do this. He’s charming as shit. 

The hall is thankfully empty, and he scurries back to the bedroom without anybody else getting an eyeful of his boxers. Livvie seems awake for the day, so he supervises her changing clothes and pulls some jeans on himself. 

“Good morning!” Mrs. Benn calls as he comes down. “Sorry Jordie isn’t here—I sent him for more eggs.”

Mrs. Hudson has used this tactic, getting him alone and still unable to defend himself while she cut him down with verbal barbs. Let him know his place. He pastes on a smile and braces himself, but the attack doesn’t come.

“We got Livvie a booster chair—Jordie said she wasn’t using a highchair for meals anymore, right?” 

“Right, right, thank you.” He guides Livvie over. 

“I’m hungry,” she whines. 

“I’ll have pancakes and bacon soon, or we have Cheerios if that’s too long,” Mrs. Benn offers.

“Cheerios will take the edge off,” Tyler says. “Thank you.”

She pishes and waves the gratitude away. “Cereal is up there, milk’s in the fridge.” While he’s getting those two, she gets Livvie a plastic bowl and spoon. 

“Thanks Mrs. Benn,” he says again. 

“Heather, please.”

The box of cereal is still sealed, like they bought it special for Livvie. 

Livvie is done with her bowl by the time Jordie gets back, and Tyler is on his second hockey-player-sized plate of pancakes. 

========

“I like your mom,” Tyler says as they step off the back porch and into the softness of the lawn.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Jordie snorts. 

Tyler bumps his shoulder and they cross to the lawn chairs. Through the kitchen windows they can see Livvie sitting up on the counter, pressing cookie cutters into the dough with Mom.

“Your mom likes me?” Tyler tries again, sounding no less amazed by the idea. He takes one of the chairs. Jordie drags the other one closer, where he can put his feet on the same rest that Tyler’s using. He nudges Tyler’s ankle with his big toe. 

“That’s not a surprise either,” Jordie says. “You can’t let those assholes make you think you’re not a catch of a son-in-law.”

“Oh jeeze,” Tyler murmurs and presses his bottle of beer to his cheek like he’s suddenly over-warm. He’s smiling though, those little crinkles at appearing at the corners of his eyes and the sides of his mouth. He’s not looking away, not killing the conversation. 

“They really like you,” Jordie says. “I know Dad doesn’t show it as much, but I’ve seen him with some of Jenny’s boyfriends that he didn’t like. I know the signs.”

“I’m glad,” Tyler says in that soft way he says everything serious. 

Jordie runs his toe up the arch of Tyler’s foot and grins when he yelps and jerks it away.

“Why are you so far?” Tyler whines, lower lip going out in a dramatic pout. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll just fix that,” Jordie says, getting up and putting his drink down. There’s no way for two adults to fit side-by-side on the lounge chairs, so he climbs on in like a lapdog that doesn’t realize how big it is, squishing Tyler behind him.

“Ugh, you whale, you’re crushing me.” Tyler groans like he’s dying but he locks his arms around Jordie’s waist, keeps him there. They wrestle around, Jordie acting like he’s trying to get up and Tyler preventing it. 

They’re both laughing and panting by the time they’re done. Jordie goes limp with all his weight on Tyler and Tyler groans again. 

“So how do you feel about anal?” Tyler whispers against his shoulder, and it was damn polite of him not to ask while Jordie was taking a drink.

“Uh…” His thought process is a wall of white noise in his head.

Tyler snickers at his eloquence. 

“Think about it,” he urges. “Get back to me on that.” 

He pushes Jordie up. Jordie reconsiders why he ever thought Tyler was the nice one as he leads Jordie back into the house. Great. He’s gotta interact with his parents like this.

========

Jordie can hear Livvie upstairs in the bath as he loads the dishwasher, hear her laughing, high and free. Tyler is quieter, the wood floors overhead creaking as he walks to and from the bathroom, gathering her night clothes and his own toiletries, never leaving her for longer than he can hold his breath. 

Mom follows Jordie’s gaze, raises an eyebrow at the besotted smile that Jordie knows he’s wearing on his face. He can’t help it. Doesn’t want to help it. It was a good night, Jordie and Tyler cooking Jordie’s tried-and-true spaghetti and chicken together while Mom watched over Livvie. It hadn’t been quite as smooth as their usual maneuvers in the kitchen since Tyler didn’t know where anything was, but they made it work.

“I should have known when you started asking me for recipes.”

“Known what?” Jordie asks, even though he already knows what she’s gonna say.

“That you were in love.” She looks thoughtful. “I should have known by how often his name came up, but I never would have put it together. Jamie wasn’t such a surprise. I mean I thought he was just awkward with girls, and one day he’d grow out of it, but the other thing fit too. The gay thing.”

Jordie rinses his hands and dries them, goes over to loop his arms around her shoulders. 

“You dated so many women,” she says like she can’t make the facts come together in a coherent picture. “That wasn’t all faking it, was it? Melissa, last summer?”

Jordie chuckles. “Not at all. I’m uh, mostly into women. There’ve been guys that caught my eye, but nothing serious, not until Tyler. He just. We fit together. I think no matter what shape he was born in, we’d fit. I want to be with him. Now, and when I retire, and wherever our lives take us after I’m done playing.”

He’d meant to just distract Mom from thinking about Jordie and sex at the same time, but he finds the words spilling out, the simple truth of them. 

“I like him,” Mom says. “I like seeing you this happy.” 

She leans in on him and they stand there for a while, until Livvie comes pounding down the stairs, Tyler with a hair-brush in hot pursuit.

==========

Livvie doesn’t nap much anymore, even in the car, but the long ride to the south-western shore of the island, the gentle rocking of the curvy roads puts her out within the first half hour. Jordie glances back and she’s sleeping behind Tyler’s seat while he drives. Her neck is at an angle that only small children can stay in and not pay for it for weeks after. 

She’s so obviously out cold that he doesn’t even bring up llamas to test it.

Satisfied that they’ve got the parental equivalent of privacy, he tries to get his thoughts in order, the things he wants to say and ask. He studies the lines of Tyler’s face, the edge of stubble down his jaw, the way the sunlight falls on his eyelashes, the curve of his cheekbones. 

“What?” Tyler asks, glancing at Jordie sidelong. 

God, he’s just beautiful. It hits Jordie in that moment, how truly beautiful Tyler is, how deep Jordie’s love for him runs. 

“So, that thing you asked about in the back yard,” Jordie starts. 

A smile plays at the corners of Tyler’s lips. 

“In the back yard? I’ve asked lots of things in the back yard.”

Jordie groans. Checks that Livvie is asleep one more time.

“Anal,” he says, clear and without stammering. If he can’t talk about it, then there’s no reason to talk about it, because he’s not ready to do it.

“Oh, _that_ back yard.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it, you know,” Jordie warns. 

Tyler softens his teasing tone. “Sorry, sorry. I want to know. What you’re thinking about it.”

Jordie takes a breath. “I was kind of hoping to hear what you were thinking first.”

Tyler is quiet for a bit, eyes on the road as he drives. He finally shrugs.

“I just would like to, if it’s something you’d be open to.”

Jordie manfully refrains from snickering at that.

“It’s a way of doing sex, but it’s not the only way. It’s not more important than anything else we do.”

That’s a relief. Jordie had thought he was getting better at blowjobs, and he has a deep appreciation for the feel of Tyler’s mouth around his dick. It would hurt to hear it didn’t count.

“Then why take it in that direction?”

Tyler hums. “Not variety like fighting-boredom variety. Just it’s good in slightly different ways. I like the way it feels, fucking or getting fucked. I’d like to share that with you.”

Jordie presses his lips together. “The fucking or getting fucked?”

Tyler glances at him again. Maybe they should pull off the side of the road for this, but then Livvie might wake up. 

“Either one. Hopefully both, because both are nice.” He hesitates and then continues on. “I uh, had a few first-timers when I was working. Sometimes the things I’d do for a client are the things I want to do now. Things I like. Things you might like. I think I’ll be good at your first time if I can keep that in mind.”

“I trust you,” Jordie says, and he does. Just. “I don’t want another thing I’m shitty at. I don’t know if I’m into it. Like it sounds good in theory. Fucking you. I can’t quite imagine it, you fucking me, and I can’t ask you to do something I’m not willing to.”

“That was both of us, the first blowjob thing. That was as much me as it was you, if not more.” 

Tyler’s told him that before, it’s just hard to not feel responsible for it.

“Second of all,” Tyler says, despite not having a ‘first of all.’ “Second of all, you’re not asking me to do something you won’t. I wouldn’t offer something that I don’t think will feel good. I wouldn’t offer to do it and I wouldn’t try to do it to you.”

He reaches for Jordie’s hand and Jordie meets him halfway, lacing their fingers together over the gearshift. 

“I want to make up for fucking up your other first time, but I wouldn’t do it by just… _enduring_ something I didn’t like.”

“Can I. Can I think some more?” Jordie asks. He knows the answer before Tyler says it.

“’Course.” Tyler squeezes his hand. “If you uh, have questions about the mechanics of it, you’ve got Ian’s number.” 

Tyler pulls his hand free to make a turn and doesn’t put it back. 

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do a hands on with him on this.”

His lips are in a straight line. Eyes locked on the road.

Shit. “Could you. Could you pull off up here? There’s a wide shoulder coming up.”

Tyler pulls off, leaves the engine running. He looks up at Jordie with the worst failure to act innocent that Jordie has seen since Juice knocked the TV remote off the table with his tail and broke it.

“I don’t want a hands-on with Ian. I don’t want a hands-on with anybody but you,” Jordie says, clear and firm, keeping Tyler’s gaze. “I’m a one-person kind of guy, and you’re my person for as long as you’ll have me.”

He hesitates. “We’re. Are we on the same page about that?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, I. I wouldn’t have without talking to you, and I don’t want to anyway.”

Jordie takes Tyler’s hand in both of his, kisses his knuckles. 

“I just wanted to give you options since you were worried about stuff. Sometimes it was easier for them to be worried about stuff with a pro than somebody they cared about.”

Jordie shakes his head. “If I want to do it I’ll want to do it with you, no matter how dumb I feel or how bad at it I am. I want to get better at it with you. I’d rather get better at it with you than use Ian as some sex-tutor.”

Tyler swallows hard, nods once. “Yeah, I. Yeah, I want that too.”

“Where’s the beach?” Livvie’s voice pipes up from the back. “There was s’pose to be a beach.”

Tyler blinks hard and twists around to smile at her. She’s craning her neck, trying to see over the door of the car to find the promised ocean view.

“Not quite there yet,” Jordie assures her. “We just pulled off to take a little rest.”

Tyler puts the car back in drive and pulls back onto the road while Jordie turns Livvie’s tablet back on and puts it in her hands. 

When he looks back at Tyler, Tyler is smiling soft, glancing at Jordie like he thinks he’ll disappear.


	50. Vacation days

They pass a dozen fancy resorts on the way to the place Jordie rented, sleek buildings with clean geometric lines. As they fade into the distance in the rear view mirror, Tyler feels an edge of tension falling from his shoulders, unwinding in his chest. He hadn’t thought too much about hotel rooms in a long time, about all-white bedding and tiny shampoo bottles, hadn’t imagined being in one with Jordie. He can’t really, as they drive around a bend in the road and the resort is gone. 

He knows Jordie stays in hotels with the team, but he can’t imagine it, meeting Jordie there or checking in together. Can’t make the thought solidify in his head.

He didn’t know it could be a problem until it wasn’t, until the possibility was behind them. It’ll be something to talk about, next time they travel. 

The phone’s GPS guides them into the parking lot and it’s…not quite what Tyler had been expecting. The main house isn’t big enough for guests, just a little two-story cottage. With as much real estate as Tyler’s looked at in the past weeks, he’d guess it at two bedrooms, probably one bath.

There are four other cars in the lot besides them. A gravel path trails between the lush landscaping and a wooden rail that overlooks the ocean. They can hear the waves from here. Tyler gets Livvie out of the car while Jordie starts with the luggage. 

“I’ll get us checked in,” Jordie offers, and Tyler says his thank-you over his shoulder as he goes to chase his child.

Livvie drags him towards the sound of the water. The rental-place-thing is perched high above the shoreline, a wooden railing and a long switchback stair between them and the rocks and driftwood, the little stretch of sand. He picks her up so she can see better, the lines of white waves washing in. The beach is full of driftwood and rocks, and he’s heard from Jordie about summers spent exploring the tide pools for small creatures. 

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Can we go down now?” 

Tyler smiles. “Let’s get our stuff put in our cabin and get your pool shoes on first, okay?”

She’s not quite sold on it, but she nods. “And I get my bucket.”

“Deal.”

“And the shovel.”

Tyler pretends to think it over.

Jordie comes out of the office-type building, dragging the biggest of their luggage and twirling their key around on his finger. An honest metal key on a key chain—no plastic card in sight.

The garden is beautiful. Tyler sets Livvie down again now that they’re further from the edge and she runs along, looking at bugs and flowers she hasn’t seen in Dallas. They follow the path, take the left branch and then the next right. The cabin is…Tyler didn’t think the word _adorable_ was in his vocabulary, but it is. It looks like a tiny Victorian, all gingerbread and fancy spindle-things supporting the railing of the miniature porch and stained glass in the windows.

Jordie opens the door and leads the way in. It smells of old wood inside, or maybe like books. There’s a king-size bed with tall posts, and a couch for Livvie to sleep on, blankets and sheets at the foot of it. It’s bigger than most hotel rooms Tyler’s been to, but smaller than the penthouse suites. They have a mini-fridge and microwave, and they brought snacks and some of Livvie’s favorites just in case.

It’s not decorated to Tyler’s taste, but he kind of likes the coziness of it, the patchwork quilt on the bed, the vase of fresh-cut flowers.

Jordie looks around, pokes his head into the door that must be the bathroom and frowns. “It’s more rustic than it looked on the website. I’m sorry it’s…”

Tyler walks into Jordie’s back, wraps his arms around him. Lifts him a few inches off his feet because he’s got too much energy after the long ride and because Jordie needs to get surprised out of this before it turns into a funk.

“Jordie. This is perfect. You did perfect,” he says when he puts Jordie down.

Tyler’s honest joy in the place must come through is voice, because Jordie relaxes some. 

“It looks like my great-aunt Edna’s house had a baby house,” Jordie gripes, but his body language looks more pleased than anything.

“It’s ten days,” Tyler reminds him. “And a vacation is supposed to be different. I can tell you I’ve never ever been in a hotel like this.”

Jordie glances at him, and Tyler figures they don’t need to have a talk about picking non-mainstream accommodations after all.

“It’s sure nothing I’d like to live in permanently, but yeah, I guess I can put up with it,” Jordie says, and he’s blatantly teasing now.

“Awww, you wouldn’t let me do the curtains like this in our new place?” Tyler never knew curtains could have so many layers. He’s surprised that the rod can hold it all. 

Jordie snorts.

“We’re going to the beach now, right?” Livvie reminds them now that she’s tired of exploring the interior. 

“Yeah, okay. Shoes and bucket.”

“And shovel.”

“Potty first because I don’t want to go down those stairs an extra time.” He’ll probably end up carrying her back, when she doesn’t have excitement to fuel her.

Livvie runs to do her business and Tyler steps into Jordie’s space, leans against his chest. 

“I don’t want to live in it forever either,” he says. “But it beats any room we could have had at one of those places up the road.”

Jordie kisses his temple and holds him close. They sway together even though there’s no music. 

===========

Jordie wakes up first—the cabin’s windows let in more morning light than he’s used to, even this far north where it’s softer than Dallas’ harsh glare. He slips out of bed and goes to use the toilet. There is a doily on the back of the tank, under a bowl of potpourri and he shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. Everything about the ‘cabin’ is kind of over-the-top, but Tyler was right about never being in a place like this before. 

He washes his hands and thanks whoever is looking out for guys like him that the fancy resort was all booked up. He remembers Jamie throwing a hotel key-card away, one morning after he’d been with Tyler. He knows it would be different, to be there with Livvie, but still, he doesn’t want to put Tyler through that.

Livvie is awake when Jordie comes out, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. 

“Hey Livvie, good morning,” he says, soft so he doesn’t wake up Tyler.

“Can we go to the beach now.” She doesn’t make it sound like a question. Jordie smiles. He thinks they’ll be hearing that a lot over the next few days.

Jordie glances over and Tyler is still out, face down between their pillows to keep the sun out of his eyes. 

“Let’s bring a picnic and let your daddy sleep, okay?”

Livvie nods. 

“Okay, you go potty and I’ll pack up.”

They get ready, probably not quiet enough that Tyler is completely asleep, so Jordie touches his shoulder before he leaves. “I got her. You catch up on your sleep.”

Tyler mumbles something that might be ‘okay’ and pulls the pillow fully over his head.

==========

By the time Jordie and Livvie get back from catching the tiniest hermit crabs Jordie has ever seen, Tyler has his yoga mat out on the little patch of lawn by their cabin. The place is designed so they have privacy even though they’re not actually that far away from the other cabins.

Livvie goes over and copies him, and Jordie watches as they balance, as they twist. 

“Wanna join us?” Tyler offers. 

It’s not in his comfort zone, but Jordie is getting better at stepping outside of that, of doing things he’s not good at, or might look silly doing. Tyler teases and chirps him plenty, but never about the things he’s most insecure about.

He knows that Tyler is taking it easy on him, helping him pose and not doing some of the more challenging moves he’s seen Tyler doing. 

“No headstands today,” Tyler assures him, and then Livvie begs to do headstands so he spots her while she tries.

It’s just different enough from Jordie’s usual workouts that he’s feeling the finest edge of soreness by the time the brunch bell rings, a sharp ‘ding ding ding’ that he thinks would probably carry down to the beach. 

Brunch is served on a back patio of the main house, or they have the option of taking it to go and eating in private. They take theirs in a basket and go back down to the beach. Livvie takes a bite and runs to the water, comes back when Tyler calls her and takes another.

“I like it here,” Jordie says. It’s probably just an off-season thing, a being-with-Tyler thing, but contentment washes over him like a wave.


	51. Get some

Mom comes to pick Livvie up for the weekend. She visits for a while, lets Livvie show her the things she’s found on the beach, the special flowers, the secret little seating areas in the gardens. 

As much as Jordie loves Livvie, it’s still a relief when they wave goodbye as Mom takes her back to Saanich. Nearly two weeks, between the time at his parents’ house and here with Livvie at the cabin. Two weeks of nothing but brief moments when Jordie and Tyler had each other’s full and undivided attention. 

Tyler’s hand slips into Jordie’s as the car drives out of sight. Jordie glances at him and Tyler smiles like he knows exactly what Jordie was thinking.

“Want to take a walk?” Jordie asks.

“I’d rather blow you,” Tyler says with a shrug. Asshole. There’s no way Jordie wants to climb a hundred stairs half-hard.

“Anything for you,” Jordie says and Tyler shoves him with his shoulder. 

They miss brunch and an hour later they drive up the coast to a diner instead. They poke through a few antique stores just because it seems like the thing to do, walk on the pier.

Once or twice, someone notices they’re holding hands, does a double-take, but nobody ever says anything.

============

It’s a weird feeling for Tyler to come back to the cabin without Livvie, like he left his phone in the restaurant or lost his keys. A vague feeling of incompleteness. He does his best to shake it off though, reminding himself that Livvie is with Heather and safe and happy and she’d call if something was up. 

“Show?” Jordie offers, and Tyler gets Jordie’s laptop and they strip down for bed and crawl between the sheets together like the marriedest married people ever. 

It’s fucking amazing. 

Tyler rests his head on Jordie’s shoulder and slips his hand under the lower hem of his t-shirt, just wanting to feel a little skin on skin. 

It’s nice, and they watch through the murder of the week.

“So uh, the thing we were talking about in the car,” Jordie starts. 

Tyler scratches his blunt nails against the hair under Jordie’s belly button.

“About the yellow house?” Tyler teases. “I think you’re right— it’ll still be in the right price range, even if we have to redo the kitchen. Did you notice the carpet?” He shudders.

“Brat.” Jordie curls into him, pokes him in the side, making Tyler squirm. He retaliates by pinching Jordie’s calf with his toes.

They stop when the laptop almost goes over the side of the bed. Tyler ends up on bottom, Jordie’s hands holding his wrists against the bed. He’s sure he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. Jordie holds himself up in a very sexy plank position. It might be that he finds everything about Jordie sexy. He’s not gonna think about it too much.

“Wanna fuck me?” he asks, watches Jordie’s pupils widen, his cheeks pink up. 

“If you want it too.” 

Tyler arches up and puts a haphazard kiss on Jordie’s lower lip. Jordie still has his wrists but it’s working for him, feeling how strong Jordie is, but gentle too.

“Give me a few minutes to get ready?”

Jordie slowly sinks his weight onto Tyler, his thigh against Tyler’s dick. 

“Fuck,” he moans against Jordie’s mouth as they kiss for real. “I need.” He struggles to remember. “Need to get ready.” 

Jordie loosens his grip, trails his fingers down the tendons of Tyler’s wrists to his elbows. “Anything I should be doing while you do that?” 

Tyler smiles, shakes his head. “Just don’t get started without me.”

“I can do that,” Jordie promises and rolls off of him. 

Tyler gives him one last kiss and crawls out of bed. He shuts the bathroom door and does the minimum prep—taking a shit and getting the bottle of lube out of his toiletry kit before he heads to shower. He leaves the hot tap on the sink trickling so they won’t have to wait for it to warm after.

He steps out of the shower and has a moment. Picturing how he’ll look, coming out of the bathroom door, his presentation. Whatever he does, he’s choosing what he wants Jordie to see. He could towel it, wrap the towel low around his hips, step out exuding confidence. Could wrap up in one of the fluffy robes that were provided. That would be softer. More vulnerable. 

He could just fucking walk naked over to the bed, his dick bobbing in front of him. That’d make a hell of a statement. He’s not sure what that statement would be, but it’d be pretty loud, whatever it was. 

He needs to do something. Needs to get out before Jordie thinks he’s changed his mind. He loves Jordie, and it’s okay to want to make the people you love happy. 

Fuck.

He pulls the t-shirt and boxers he’d been wearing before his shower back on, comes out of the door and hurries to the bed, bringing the towel with him.

Jordie lifts the side of the sheets to welcome him in. 

Tyler climbs in and then wiggles out of his boxers again, and then the shirt. Jordie has turned off the overhead light, but the fancy glass lamps on the nightstand give off a good glow. 

“You good?” Jordie asks, searching his eyes. 

Tyler nods. He is. “Just got stuck on the walk from the door to here. Fixed it.”

Jordie’s touch on his ribs is tender, light, sliding down from his waist, over his bare hip. Jordie is naked under the sheets.

It doesn’t take much to get Tyler going. A few kisses. Jordie nuzzling his way down Tyler’s throat. 

He holds back though, enjoys the journey. It’s good, so good. Jordie has good hands, hands that know him, know what’ll tickle and what’ll make him squirm for more. 

“You still want uh, want me in you?” Jordie asks. 

“If it’s what we both want, yeah.”

Jordie nods. Tyler takes the time to read his face, and desire is outweighing trepidation.

“You want to get me ready or have me do it?” 

Jordie wets his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll do it. I want to do it. Just. Walk me through it. Let me know if I’m doing it wrong.”

Tyler will let him know if he’s doing it right, too. Guilting over how he fucked up Jordie’s first time giving a blowjob isn’t real helpful. He keeps repeating the alternative in his head instead. That it’s okay to do things that turn Jordie on if they’re honest. That sometimes things he did for work and things he does now for pleasure can look identical from the outside. 

He pushes the covers back some and rearranges the bed, hands Jordie the bottle of lube. He puts a pillow where his hips will be and spreads the towel over it. 

Jordie settles on his knees between Tyler’s thighs. He looks more nervous than anything as he pops the top on the lube.

“Hey.” Tyler says. “Just touch me for a little bit first, yeah?” 

Jordie is his boyfriend. Jordie works hard to make Tyler happy, to make him feel good. If Jordie needs to slow it down but won’t say so, then Tyler can slow it down. He puts the flat of one foot on the front of Jordie’s shoulder, not pushing, just resting it there. The other one he hooks around to where Jordie is sitting on his own feet. 

“Touch me,” Tyler urges, and Jordie does, putting those smart hands on the insides of his knees, sliding them up his thighs to his crotch. The feel of it makes his breath hitch, his dick bob up from his belly. 

The concentration on Jordie’s face eases some. This is them making love. He shouldn’t be coming at it like he’s taking a faceoff. He rubs up the front of Tyler’s hips, over his lower abs and around to the obliques. 

Tyler draws a breath in between parted lips. He’s allowed to show pleasure when he feels it.

Jordie strokes his body for a while, slides his hands down the outside of Tyler’s hip, cups is ass and squeezes. 

“Tell me what to do,” Jordie says. From a client, Tyler would think it was him getting off on bossiness, but Jordie has never given him that vibe. He just wants to be good at everything he does, and he’s willing to ignore his ego to do that.

“Get the lube,” Tyler whispers. “Put a little on your fingertips. You ever finger your girlfriends?”

Jordie gives him a look he can’t quite decipher. Some mix of checking Tyler for jealousy and wondering if Tyler is chirping him.

“Go ahead and get down there. Spread the lube around. It’s a muscle. You’re trying to get it to relax. Make it feel good and it’ll let you in.”

He takes a long breath himself, lets it out as he consciously relaxes his entire body. Jordie circles the rim with his finger, and Tyler groans. 

“That feels amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s quite a show from this end too.” 

Tyler snorts. “Next time, I’ll do it while you watch.”

Jordie has a hard time swallowing, like his mouth just went dry. 

“Little more lube,” Tyler murmurs and Jordie gets more. “Push it in. One finger at first.”

Jordie does, sliding it in and out without resistance. 

“Fuck, it’s been a long time.” Sometimes Tyler might put a finger or two there while he jerks off in the shower, but it’s like the difference between being tickled and trying to tickle himself. Works so much better when somebody else does it.

“Go ahead. Give me another.”

Jordie rubs his knuckles over Tyler’s perineum on his way back to his asshole. 

“Knew you’d be good at this,” Tyler says. Words are getting harder as he loses himself in the sensations of Jordie’s fingers penetrating. “Curl your fingers up. Like you were trying to find my dick from the inside.” 

It’s not a hard target to hit, and Jordie gets it on the first try. Tyler grunts, his hips stuttering forward as he chases the sensation. His knees spread wider, the foot that’s on the bed jerking like he wants to pull Jordie in.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I could come from that.” It really has been that long. “Wait, wait, don’t.”

Jordie’s fingers go still on the first ‘wait’ and he looks ready to quit if this is Tyler tapping out.

“I want you in me when I come,” Tyler says. He’s ready, or fuck, close enough. “Slick it up and stick it in.”

“You’re sure?” Jordie asks. His wrist must be at a weird angle, because he’s not finger-fucking Tyler anymore, but Tyler can feel them shift inside him.

“Yes,” Tyler groans. If he didn’t love Jordie so much, didn’t know Jordie loved him, he’d think this was a fucking tease.

Jordie pulls out to get the lube again. Pours some over his dick and spreads it around with his hand. He hitches Tyler’s legs over his shoulders, lines himself up and eases forward.

Tyler is good at this part, at relaxing and taking it, but this is the easiest time he’s ever done it, letting Jordie in, letting him close. 

Jordie slides in, concentrating like he’s waiting for it to be hard, waiting for Tyler to be too tight. He bottoms out before that happens, his pubes pressed up against the underside of Tyler’s balls. 

“Fuck,” Jordie breathes, reverent as a saint. He looks down at the action, watches his dick slide out a few inches and then back in. 

“Oh shit,” Tyler sighs. 

Jordie blinks like he’d forgotten where he was. Changes his grip on Tyler’s leg and reaches his damp hand to wrap around Tyler’s dick.

Tyler intercepts before it can get there, threads Jordie’s fingers through his. 

“Not gonna last,” Tyler warns. “I wanna make it to the end. Wanna come from your dick.”

Jordie’s hips jut forward at that, and Tyler groans. 

“Not gonna break,” Tyler says and Jordie takes his hand back, adjusts his grip on Tyler’s thighs. Tyler tips his head back, smiling in anticipation.

Jordie fucks that smile right off again, shifts back and slams in again. 

“Fuck yeah,” Tyler gasps. The pressure is already building. Fucking has always just been fucking before. Jordie doesn’t have a magical dick, but it feels different anyway. Makes him feel close in ways it hasn’t with anybody else. 

Jordie finds his rhythm and starts to go. Tyler grabs hold of the sheets under him and hangs on as Jordie fucks him up the bed until his head is against the headboard. The next time Jordie pulls back he drags Tyler down, drags Tyler onto his dick instead of fucking forward. 

The pressure that’s been building breaks through. Tyler tries to hold it back, tries to make it last just a second longer. Groans through his teeth at the intensity as it rushes through him.

Jordie misses a beat.

“Don’t stop,” Tyler pleads. “Don’t stop.”

His everything is so much, too much, but so fucking good.

Jordie gasps, groans and then pushes in one last time, grinding his pelvis against Tyler’s ass. He’s so fucking strong, his fingers pressing bruises into Tyler’s thighs. How did Tyler not know how strong he was?

Jordie bobs in a few halfhearted thrusts and then he slips out. They untangle themselves with cum-dumb limbs. Jordie collapses on his side with Tyler’s legs over his hip. And then he laughs, breathless and amazed and happy. Meets Tyler’s gaze sideways and grins.

“I get it now,” he says and Tyler smiles back down at him. 

They lay there a while, until Tyler can feel Jordie’s jizz leaking out of him. That’s one point in favor of condoms, even when they don’t need it for anything else. The friction had been nice though, Jordie’s skin as it slid into him. 

He groans. One of them is going to have to get up. 

Jordie pats his calf and pushes himself up. His legs are rubbery as he walks to the bathroom, and Tyler can’t even make fun of him for it because he’s in worse shape. 

Damn, they fucked each other good.

===========

Jordie wobbles his way to the bathroom. Tyler left a couple wash cloths on the edge of the counter, a trickle of warm water running in the sink. Jordie’s boyfriend is brilliant. He cleans himself up, rinses and dampens both cloths to bring back to Tyler.

Tyler is sprawled where Jordie left him, come on his abs, his knees butterflied open, his dick soft against his pubic hair. He looks gloriously fucked out, and Jordie feels a swell of pride, that he did that. 

Tyler opens his eyes when Jordie joins him on the bed, makes a feeble attempt to get the towel, but Jordie shoos him away. He starts with Tyler’s dick, taking it in his hand and cleaning the tip. Then his abs. He moves back down to between Tyler’s legs, props one up on his shoulder like it had been at the beginning.

Tyler’s hole is puffy and pink, but he doesn’t act like it hurts. Tyler’s enthusiasm had been contagious, and Jordie had gone harder than he’d planned to, harder than he would with any of the women he’s dated. 

Tyler had taken it, had loved taking it. 

Jordie feels like he should ask to make sure Tyler is good, but he’s so obviously blissed out that Jordie doesn’t have the slightest doubt what Tyler will say. He gently cleans the lube and come off of Tyler’s ass instead, gentle swipes of the warm cloth making Tyler twitch and squirm. 

Jordie takes care of the cloth and climbs up to the head of the bed. Tyler reaches for him, pulls him down to a slow lazy kiss. It feels good to do it after sex, the rush and urgency gone. To kiss Tyler for no reason than they both like to do it.

They wind down slowly, naturally, kissing turning to caresses. Jordie lays his head down on Tyler’s shoulder, loops an arm over his ribs to feel him breathe. They’re naked still—Jordie hasn’t slept without clothes on since he started sharing a house with a four-year-old, and he’s aware of every inch of his skin touching every inch of Tyler’s.

One more night before they head back to Saanich.


	52. Settling in

Jordie thinks he’ll get up the nerve to offer to let Tyler fuck him before they leave, but the day passes, blowjobs in the morning and Tyler’s hand at night. It never seems the right moment. He knows Tyler wouldn’t be an ass if they get started but Jordie isn’t into it. It’s been such a perfect trip, he wants to leave it that way.

The road back to Saanich seems shorter, whether it’s because Jordie is the one driving or because it’s the end of his time alone with Tyler, he’s not sure.

The radio is playing soft, driver’s choice of ‘dad rock’. Tyler sings snatches of lyrics off-key and grins at Jordie as he croons along with the sappiest of lines.

Jordie’s phone chirps the sound of an incoming text.

“Can you read that?” Jordie asks. Tyler knows his password.

Tyler picks the phone up and reads it. He’s quiet a beat too long and Jordie glances over. Tyler looks stunned. Not unhappy, not worried, just. Like someone bopped him in the head. Jordie tries to think what could possibly make Tyler look like that.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Tyler’s voice is not normal, rough like he needs to clear his throat, and Jordie looks over at him again. Looks over in time to see the grin spread across his face.

“Your mom says Livvie is asking when her ‘dads are coming back.’ That’s not a typo, she says.”

“Oh.” Oh. Jordie had tried, to be as much of a dad as he could without overstepping Tyler’s boundaries. To know that Livvie thinks of him like that. That Tyler is obviously happy about it too…Jordie blots at his eyes. Oh wow.

Tyler pats Jordie’s thigh, and together they drive home to their little girl.

=======

 

“Happy Birthday Dear Livvie, Happy Birthday to you!”

Livvie blows out the five candles on the cake that Heather baked for her. The Benns bought her a new outfit, from head-band to shoes. Jordie got her the Hockey ABC book and a pack of gel pens with black paper for the plane ride home.

Jamie sends a card. He doesn’t add anything to the sentiment inside, a googly-eyed clown wishing Livvie a happy birthday, just his name at the bottom.

“I can’t believe she’s getting so big,” Tyler murmurs, leaning back against Jordie’s chest. Jordie wraps his arms around Tyler’s shoulder, nuzzles against Tyler’s temple.

Mom glances over, catches the display of affection, and smiles at them.

=========

“And here, and here, and here.”

The places to sign are endless, Jordie scribbling his signature and then turning the paperwork so it’s easier for Tyler to sign it. It’s probably not necessary, for Tyler to be on it all. He’d actually been surprised when Tyler hadn’t argued with him, when Tyler had leaned against him as they gazed on the harvest-gold hellscape of the pre-demolition kitchen and smiled. Had said “Yeah. Okay,” like he wasn’t surprised at the offer.

Jordie kind of expects Tyler to back out, to insist it stay in Jordie’s name, but he’s smiling and soft as he pens his squiggle on each ‘co-owner’ spot.

The title agent gets to the last post-it flag and Jordie passes over his cashier’s check. It’s scary to drop such a large part of his savings, almost a year’s take-home pay in one chunk, but paying interest when he doesn’t have to would be bullshit.

“Congratulations on your new home,” The agent says and passes the keys over. Jordie takes the rings apart, passes a set to Tyler.

“We own a house,” Tyler says, halfway between giddy and terrified.

“We own a house,” Jordie repeats. Holy shit they own a house.

They thank the agent and walk back to the truck. “Wanna go visit it?” Jordie asks as they get in.

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

It’s not far, a few miles down the road. The owners—the previous owners—haven’t done the lawn since Jordie made the cash offer, and the yard is tall and straw-brown from the summer heat. Still, it’s theirs, all theirs.

Tyler has a notebook and Jordie brings a measuring tape. They need a list of what needs to be done before they can move in, what furniture they already have will work in the new space and what they’ll need to buy.

“Hey,” Tyler says as they make a circuit of the outside. The wood fence around the backyard is not-new but Jordie thinks it’s good for a few years unless Juice chews through it.

“Yeah?”

“So, remember that thing we talked about? That there’s no way I can try to pay for half of stuff as long as you’re Mr. NHL?”

Jordie snorts and shakes his head, more that Tyler’s assessment of Jordie’s place in the game is hilariously inflated and not that he doesn’t remember.

Tyler bumps his shoulder, impatient with Jordie’s silliness when he’s the one who started it. Unfair.

Jordie turns his full attention to Tyler, and Tyler opens the notebook to the middle, to a fat envelope. He hesitates for just a second, and then passes the envelope over. Jordie doesn’t have to open it to know the bulk inside is the shape of money.

“What’s…”

Tyler shrugs. “It’s not half.”

Jordie tries to pass it back but Tyler shakes his head and doesn’t take it.

“This isn’t why I wanted your name on the house,” Jordie argues.

“It’s not my life savings,” Tyler says, and Jordie feels like they’re talking past each other. “I just. The amount I need to have on hand to feel safe got a lot smaller, recently. And I know if something happens and we go our separate ways you won’t rip me off. So. Use it to spiff up your kitchen or whatever. Just uh, don’t deposit it all at the same time or the IRS will come sniffing.”

He shrugs, sheepish.

Jordie stuffs the envelope into his back pocket, already feeling nervous to be carrying that much cash. He steps in and loops his arms around Tyler’s waist, brushes a kiss across his lips.

“ _Our_ kitchen,” he corrects, and Tyler grins.

=========

Tyler’s no stranger to taking Livvie places and leaving her there a couple hours. Since she was a newborn baby, he’s been dropping his kid off at daycare and playcare, with the Busaris or the Hudson’s five times a week or more. He doesn’t think walking her to school for her first day of kindergarten will be different.

The house isn’t ready for habitation—kitchen completely gutted and the flooring torn up throughout, but the water is running and the bill is in Tyler’s name, so this school can be Livvie’s for the next seven years or so.

They park out front, between the trucks of the construction workers.

Jordie gets Livvie out of her seat and crouches down to brush the last-minute snack crumbs off of her dress. Tyler double-double checks that she has her supplies in her backpack and settles it on her little shoulders. It strikes him, that she’s so big, and at the same time so small. God, his baby is growing up.

“Ready?” Jordie asks, smiling, still at her level.

“Yes!”

It’s two blocks to school and they walk three across, holding hands with Livvie in the middle. Every fifth step they swing her between them.

Tyler doesn’t cry when they say goodbye at the door and send her to the competent hands of her new teacher.

It’s allergies.

============

“I can’t even sit on the damn couch,” Fidds grouses, pulling sweaty pads off of his shoulders and dropping them on the bench. “We don’t need a place to display fourteen kinds of freakin’ pillows; I just want somewhere to _sit_ in the damn living room.”

Jordie sits and starts unlacing his skates.

Spezza groans in agreement with Fiddler. “I’d buy myself my own couch but she’d cover that one too.”

“Does Tyler go in for all that interior design bullshit?”

Jordie barks out a laugh before the question has permeated to his conscious thoughts. He freezes, looks up. It’s the first time they’ve been so direct about it.

Fiddler raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, no. The new couch came with two, but Juice chewed them up and we didn’t get new ones yet.” He can’t see him or Tyler deciding that pillow-shopping is a priority in their whirlwind schedules. The new house is nicer than Tyler’s old place, and slightly less barren than Jordie’s, but it still looks like a bachelor pad collided with a pre-school.

“Lucky guy,” Spezza comments. “That’s a keeper.”

Jordie’s heart-rate settles back down to his normal post-practice levels. Fiddler starts complaining about the number of pillows on the bed, and how many candles there are in the bathroom.

Jordie adds some decor to his mental shopping list. Just enough that it looks like adults live there.


	53. Settling in for the long haul

“My turn my turn my turn!”

Jordie watches, half asleep, as Livvie chases Gideon and Augustin, and the three of them go up the slide. The other kids in the PlayPlace are bigger than Livvie, but not too much bigger. If they collide in the tube-slide, nobody will be hurt too bad.

Tyler sips his coffee and leans in against Jordie’s shoulder. Having the boys over for a sleepover had been more work and less rest than either of them expected.

This, watching the kids play, sitting together, the warmth and contentment—that he could do forever, Jordie thinks.

“Ever think of having another? Kid, I mean. I dunno. Adoption or something?”

“Mmm,” Tyler says, mulling it over and still half-asleep. “Not alone. I can barely keep up with Livvie. Maybe after you retire.”

Jordie isn’t sure that Tyler even knows what he just implied, but it’s a thing he would really like to see happen.

===============

Tyler crowds Jordie back against the cool tiles, lips hungry against Jordie’s. “Jordie,” he pants, “Can I eat you out?”

Jordie blinks, the words not making sense for a second. He goes still, and Tyler pulls back enough to look into his eyes.

“Uh.” The words spin in his head with no mental image for how it would work or feel or look to attach to.

“Here?” It’s not a useful question, but it’s the only one Jordie can come up with.

“Not in the shower,” Tyler says. Jordie has found it comforting, to hear Tyler’s ‘no,’ to learn the things he isn’t into, doesn’t want to do. Anything below the waist while standing on porcelain. Not into being bent over the furniture when Jordie is fucking him. Doesn’t like Jordie’s hand to be too heavy on the back of his head when Tyler’s sucking his dick. It makes it easier to trust Tyler’s ‘yes.’ To believe that he really is into the way Jordie fucks him or blows him.

Questions like this are a reassurance that Tyler asks for what he wants, and that he trusts Jordie to be honest in return.

“You want your mouth on my butt?”

Tyler pulls back, mischief in his eyes. “I want my tongue up your ass, actually.”

“Isn’t that…” He struggles to not make an ew-face. Obviously Tyler wouldn’t offer if it was gross. Right?

Tyler shrugs. “You’re shower-fresh. It’s all good.” The challenge in his eyes softens. “If you don’t like it, just call it and I’ll stop.”

Jordie wants to ask why Tyler would even want to do this, but he knows the answer already—because Tyler thinks it feels good and he wants to give Jordie every variety of feels-good that’s possible for one man to give another.

Tyler leans in, nuzzles against Jordie’s neck, whispers against his skin. “I’ll bet you a week’s worth of dishes it’ll feel amazing.”

Jordie shivers and laughs, the tension broken by the combination of burning sexy and goofy-silly. “Yeah? Sounds like a win-win for me if you put it like that.”

“For me too,” Tyler grins, waggling his eyebrows. His grip is firm on Jordie’s hips.

“So uh, what do I do?”

Tyler shrugs. “Wash off one last time and then come on out.”

He leaves Jordie alone in the shower, letting Jordie double-check the hygiene of his asshole without being self-conscious.

Tyler wins the bet and Jordie does the dishes. Tyler dries for him though—Jordie thinks it’s just to have a week of looking smug while he does it.

==============

“Hey, what do you think of this?” Jordie folds the Men’s Health magazine open, shoves it towards Janmark. The ad is sleek black and white, a man’s wrist, the edge of a suit sleeve. The watch in the center of the page is the only thing in color, subtle blues reflecting off of the silver.

“It’s a nice watch?” Mattias tries.

Jordie huffs. “Everybody knows it’s a nice watch, or it wouldn’t be three grand. I’m asking if you’d be glad if someone bought it for you for Christmas. As a young guy.”

Mattias looks over Jordie’s shoulder for help.

“You’re buying me a watch?” he asks Jordie.

“I’m buying _Tyler_ a watch, and he’s your age, so just tell me if it looks like something your dad would wear or what.”

This was a mistake. He should have called Ian. Fuck.

“No, no, no,” Roussel pipes up from behind him, jostling Jordie’s shoulder. “It’s been a year, more. You’re serious about him, right?”

“Yeah.” Duh.

Roussel’s left eyebrow arches up. “If you’re serious, you buy him a _car._ ”

Jordie blinks. Oh hell yeah.

He’ll save jewelry shopping with Ian for when he goes to pick out a ring.

============

“Go pick up our lunch. I’ll take Livvie down to the beach and you can meet us there.”

Livvie has been in a mood and a half all morning, and Jordie is definitely helping himself to the raw end of the deal.

“Sorry, Tyler, I’m still making it,” Edith says when he gets to the main house. The bottom floor is mostly kitchen, a small lobby in the front of the house and a big patio out back.

Edith pushes a long strand of gray hair back with her wrist and then slips oven mitts on. The bread smells like heaven, but it’s also too hot to serve sandwiches on. Lunch is going to be much, much later. He feels guilty leaving Jordie alone with Livvie for too long with her grumping at every little thing.

“It’s no problem. I’ll grab Livvie some snacks from the room and we’ll come back up later to eat.”

Edith makes a noise of agreement, flips the first fresh loaf of bread onto a rack to cool.

Tyler turns to go, but Edith’s “Oh, Tyler,” stops him before he gets to the door.

“Could you help me for a minute? I’m sure I have another jar of preserves. Can you see if they’re in that top cabinet there?”

The jar of preserves is not there, but a jumble of ancient Tupperware falls and has to be rearranged. It’s not above the fridge or in the back of one of the lower cabinets that Edith can’t get low enough to dig through.

“I must have used it then,” she says. “Never get old, Tyler. It sucks balls.”

He snorts and she passes over the basket of their lunch.

“Beats the alternative,” he says and she shrugs and can’t argue with that.

“Have fun down on the beach,” she says and shoos him out of the kitchen.

==========

Tyler tucks the basket handle over the crook of his arm and trots across the parking lot, down the boardwalk and onto the million stairs going down to the shore. He looks down as he goes, and Livvie is at the edge of the water, chasing the waves out and then running away when they turn to chase her. He can hear her laughter from the first landing, and he’s glad that Jordie isn’t having a shitty time.

He whistles, sharp, and Jordie turns to wave at him.

Tyler is halfway down the stairs when he notices—Livvie is in one of her floofy dresses—he hadn’t thought they’d even brought one of those with them. Jordie is dressed up too, dress slacks and a button-down shirt, vest and tie.

Tyler doesn’t know if he should pout or laugh. Jordie owes Edith a heck of a tip for that performance.

He gets to the bottom of the stairs, steps out into the soft give of the sand, the sun-warmed heat of it soaking up through his sandals.

Jordie smiles and watches Tyler come. Takes the basket and sets it aside when Tyler gets to him.

Livvie comes over from the water. “What’s going on?”

“I need to ask your daddy something,” Jordie says, never taking his eyes from Tyler’s.

Tyler’s throat is dry, his voice higher-pitched than he intended. “Yeah?”

Jordie goes down on one knee. Holds up a jewelry box, open to show the ring, but Tyler can’t see it, can’t look anywhere but at Jordie’s face.

“Tyler Seguin, will you marry me?”

It feels unreal, the sweep of the landscape, Jordie kneeling, Livvie there to see.

“Yes?” Tyler says, overwhelmed. “Yes, yes I will.”

Jordie takes his hand and Tyler can feel him shaking as he slides the ring over Tyler’s finger.

And then Tyler can’t take it anymore, pulls Jordie to his feet and kisses him.

Holy shit.

 

=============

Tyler loves Jordie’s big family, the cousins and aunts and uncles gathered for the Canada Day cookout, little nieces and nephews for Livvie to play with. He doesn’t think he remembers half the names he’s been told, but nobody seems to take it personally when he has to ask again.

All the women and half the men want to see the ring, and Tyler is proud to show it off. It is absolutely perfect, a gold band with irregular facets and a rough recessed crevice for the diamond. He loves the contrast, how the shape of it looks almost hand-carved but the sleekness of the materials makes it super-modern and flashy.

They’re great, all of them, but even an extrovert can get overwhelmed by an unfamiliar crowd. The cooler full of drinks isn’t exactly empty, but Tyler volunteers to go get more anyway. The house is blessedly quiet, and he takes his time, checks messages on his phone, sends his own family holiday wishes.

When he’s feeling less crowded, he gathers the case of soda that he came for and heads back to the party.

He opens the back door and Jamie is there at the bottom of the porch stairs, one hand on the railing like he’d been thinking of coming up. He sees Tyler and steps back and to the side so the rail is between them.

“Sorry, I…”

Tyler shrugs. He’d known Jamie was coming. It’s…been a long time, and his anger over the fight with Jordie has faded. “No problem.”

Jamie doesn’t step away, doesn’t go up the stairs. He sucks his lower lip in and worries it with his teeth.

“You don’t owe me a conversation,” he starts, and ah. They’re doing this. They’re doing this here and now. “But if I could talk to you a minute, I'd really appreciate it."

Tyler sets the case of drinks on the rail. There’s nothing Jamie can say that’ll hurt him. Maybe piss him off if Jamie really tried, but he doesn’t look like he’s here for a fight.

“I’m listening,” Tyler says. It’s maybe more than Jamie deserves, but honestly, there’s a lot of their relationship that he’s not proud of either. A few minutes of his time is no hardship for the chance of clearing the air, making it easier for Jordie to see his family without worrying that Tyler and Jamie are going to clash.

Jamie takes a breath. "I was a selfish shit when I was with you. I put things on you that you shouldn't have had to deal with. I wasn't a good partner.”

He takes a breath and then goes on. “I didn’t treat you with respect. I. Wasn’t interested in kids and I wasn’t upfront about that. And then. I shouldn’t have pressured you to move for me. A text was a shitty way to break up.”

He glances Tyler’s way and then back at his hands resting on the rail. “I should have been happy for you and Jordie both. I didn't want to be back in your life, but it hurt so bad to be as miserable as I was and see you and Jordie so happy. I never should have said what I did to Jordie. I. I can’t even remember the words, I was just trying to tear him down to my level. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ve been. Been going to therapy. I didn’t like who I was. I didn’t like hurting my brother. I want him to be happy, and I want you to be happy. And I just. I just wanted you to know that I’ll work hard to not be a problem.”

It’s a lot, and Tyler isn’t sure what to say. He knows he’s not blameless, knows he wasn’t genuine, that he was never open with Jamie in ways that weren’t actually Jamie’s fault. He doesn’t know how to say that and not feel like he’s apologizing for not giving more to someone who hadn’t earned it, though. If Jamie can be this honest, Tyler won’t be less.

“That’s.” He takes a breath. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

Jamie huffs out a laugh. “No.” He takes a breath like he’s trying to steady himself. Looks up at Tyler.

“I don’t hate you,” Tyler says. “I. This is complicated.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah. It is. As little or as much as you want from me, as your future brother-in-law, just let me know. I’ll try to pay attention, but I might miss something. If. If you don’t want to see me around, I’ll work out with Jordie so I’m not.”

Tyler nods. “Can I get back to you on that?”

Jamie’s lips curve, the smallest hint of a smile. “Yeah. Of course. I.” He glances over his shoulder, makes a vague gesture. “Thank you. For listening.”

“No problem,” Tyler says, even though it was kind of a big deal.

Jamie wanders off and Tyler takes a breath. Looks out across the lawn. Jordie is there, a beer in his hand, gesturing as he chats with his dad. He grins over whatever they’re saying. His hair is longer this summer, and Tyler might tease about the beard but he’s learning to love it.

Livvie runs by, laughing, chased by one of her cousins.

Tyler smiles and steps off of the porch. Walks across the grass to his fiance’s side. He leans in against him, despite the summer heat he’d been complaining about half an hour before.

Jordie barely pauses his conversation, but he loops an arm around Tyler, snugs him in closer. Brushes something less than a kiss but shorter than a nuzzle against Tyler’s temple.

Two years ago, Tyler could never have dreamed his life would turn out this way, but it’s been worth every step, even the painful ones, on the path here.

Jordie’s dad says something and goes back to manning the grill. Jordie glances down, gives a little inquiring twitch of his eyebrows.

“Everything okay?”

Tyler smiles and turns around in Jordie’s grip so they’re facing each other. The kiss is a small one, a display of affection that’s appropriate for small children and grandparents to see.

“Everything is perfect.”


	54. The end

The drive from Saanich to the southwestern coast of the island is familiar now. They usually make it once every summer, sometimes again during the season if the weather’s nice during bye-week. Ten years on, Jordie’s hands remember the turns, the curves in the road. 

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” Livvie asks from the back seat, looking up from the book she’s reading on her tablet. Jordie and Tyler had worried about moving her in the middle of high school, but she’s treating it like a preview of the transition to college life. She says she’s looking forward to meeting new people, making new friends. She’d formally cut ties with the Hudsons a few months back and Jordie thinks the distance will be good for her. 

All three of them will miss the Busaris, but Augustin has already left for UCLA and Gideon is leaving in another year. There’s always skype. Maybe if business is good, they can host the them all for a week in the summer or something.

The driveway is narrower than last time, spring growth stretching across the roadway unchecked. Jordie drives in the middle though, and none of it scratches against the car.

A chain stretches across the opening to the parking lot. Jordie stops the car and Tyler hops out, flips through the keychain for the right key and unlocks the lock. Waves them through dramatically. 

A spark of excitement kindles to flame in Jordie’s chest. This is like when they bought the house but more, more risk but more opportunity too. When they called a few months ago to get their cabin reserved for the summer, Edith had said her and her husband were retiring, selling off the property since their kids weren’t interested in running it. 

Jordie is only thirty-six, but he’s felt the end of his career looming. He didn’t get hurt, he’s just been a second too slow for the latest batch of rookies, both those playing against him and those hoping to take his job. His ice time is down, and his last contract was for barely more than his very first. The only reason he hadn’t retired the year before was worrying about what he’d do next, how he’d fill his time.

He’s not sure buying a B&B isn’t biting off more than they can chew, but between the hospitality management classes Tyler took and Jordie’s skill in the kitchen, they’ve got a good start. They’ll figure out the building maintenance and gardening things as they go.

Jordie pulls the car into the parking space in front of the main house, the one marked management. Tyler re-locks the chain and comes around to open Jordie’s door for him. Tyler’s smile lines are on full display as he grins—crinkles at the corners of his eyes, curves at the sides of his mouth. He is beautiful, and Jordie loves him as much as they day they got married. Tyler reaches down and Jordie takes his hand. Together, step out into the first day of their new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, guys. Thank you so much to everybody that's commented along as I posted the chapters. It really helped me keep motivated to edit. I appreciate each and every comment. Feel free to find me at tumblr (same name). Stop by, say hi, see what I'm working on this week.


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